He couldn’t believe his luck.

He laid there on his side, watching her, the smell of freshly aired linens adding weight to his already heavy lids.

“Where did you learn such tricks?”

She stood, picking up her silk shift from the floor, raising an eyebrow in answer.

He caught a final glimpse of the small of her back; the swell of her hips, as the white silk melted over her, covering though not hiding anything. Despite his languor, he felt himself stir again, memory of the last half hour faintly pulsing in his temple, his lips.

“I don’t get paid to talk,” she teased. “If you want dialogue, that will cost you extra.”

Rolling, he grabbed his money pouch from the bedside table and opening it, fished a stack of coins from inside, smacking them down on the dark stained surface.

“Will that cover it?”

“Shhhhhhh!” she scolded. She crossed the room quickly and sat down on the bed beside him. Her tousled blonde hair brushed his chest as she leaned over to kiss him firmly. In one fluid motion, she finished the kiss, scooped up the coins and hurried out of arms reach. “You don’t want to wake the kids.”

Thump...

She winked once, gracefully pirouetted, and left the room, closing the wooden door behind her.

Shaking his head, he laughed to himself, “Kenna”.

Thump...

He could feel his heart beat, echoing her absence.

Thump...

A dull ache started in his side. It grew in intensity and started to spread through his chest.

Thump Thump...

Panic. He clutched at the bed linens to uncover his ribs. A fresh stab of pain convulsing his body, halting his hand, every muscle tense.

Thump Thump...

His vision started to swim, the room quickly fading.

Thump Thump...

Darkness...

Thump Thump...

Silence...

His senses woke, one by one, just starting to sleepily take notice. He felt wet, close and sticky, his clothes pressed to him. His hair was soaked, droplets running across his brow, into his eyes and down his neck. The ground cold and hard beneath his back, he shifted, bringing his arm up to clear his eyes.

Pain.

A burning ache clung to his left side, making it hard to move, hard to breath. He stopped his arm and lay still, hoping to gain some relief. It felt like the morning after too much cheap ale, the pain staying with him, never easing. It climbed up the inside of his ribcage, stopping at the base of his neck, giving him a moment to foretell the hammering that started in his skull.

Something touched the side of his face.

Hemmer opened his eyes to firelight, swiftly closing them again to muffle the rising agony that flashed through his head. Hesitating, he slowly reopened them, willing the pain to lessen, giving his vision time to adjust.

A figure crouched low over him.

Flat on his back he couldn’t see much. He could make out the head: long tawny hair, braided to fall behind a slender neck, held in place by a leather band; a warrior’s band. Marked for its length with vertical black lines, burned into the leather for each successful hunt. The band, worn low over the brow, crossed just above the ears. Small, childlike ears, with slightly pointed tops.

He couldn’t believe his luck.