The next morning.

Tessa felt like her arms were weighed down by stone, and her throat was bone-dry, as if she hadn’t had a sip of water in days. The last time she drank anything was at dusk yesterday.

Morning light slipped through the window, stabbing her eyes with a painful brightness. Slowly, her senses returned. The chills had stopped wracking her body, and the sharp ache in her side had dulled to something manageable. She wasn’t fully recovered yet, but she was getting there. Even ...