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There were sounds around her, but it felt as if she was underwater, and her ears were straining to hear anything that made sense.
The voice grew louder and she blinked again, hard.
Sounded like Lenny’s voice.
The outer edges of the lantern came into focus, and the wooden log wall around it too.
Lenny’s voice cut through her foggy brain, but she was speaking in that language she didn’t understand.
“Get Garret!”
Garret. That, she did understand. Eliza tried to move, but pain blasted through her body like a bolt of lightning. She gasped and curled in on herself, closed her eyes against the ache.
“Don’t move.” Lenny’s voice cut through the fog of pain.
Eliza forced her eyes open and her friend was there, leaning close to her face, her wolf-bright eyes glowing as she searched her face with worry.
“Where is he?” Eliza whispered hoarsely.
“He’s close. I can hear his horse. He’s at a dead run.” Lenny grabbed up her hand and squeezed it. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“What happened?” Her throat was so dry.
“You’ve been shot.”
Eliza’s eyes flew wide as memories of Wyatt assaulted her. “Is Garret okay?” she asked.
Lenny huffed a laugh. “He will be much better when he sees you are awake. He’s barely left your side.”
“How…how long was I out?”
“A week.”
A week? Eliza’s heart pounded against her chest as she tried to make sense of everything. A whole week? “Thirsty.”
“I’ll get you some water,” Lenny rushed out, and then disappeared from in front of her.
Eliza had a clear view of the chair in the corner of Garret’s bedroom. Wait. She wasn’t in her bedroom. She was tucked into Garret’s bed.
There was a blanket thrown on the floor by the chair, and it had been scooted closer to the bed. A piece of half-eaten cornbread sat abandoned on the washbasin table next to the chair.
Lenny returned to the space in front of her, blocking her view of the chair. She held out a metal cup of water, and helped to hold Eliza’s head up as she sipped it. Her throat wasn’t working right, and she coughed on the stream of water that tried to trickle down her esophagus.
“What’s wrong with me?” she choked out.
“You suffered from infection,” Lenny answered. “You almost didn’t make it. Garret has barely slept the entire week. We have all been here, waiting for you to wake up.”
“The Pack. Everyone is okay?”
“Everyone lived. We have some new scars, but not as bad as the Jennings Pack.” Lenny’s eyes darkened. “None of them survived.”
“Eliza?” Garret bellowed from the front room.
“Here,” she answered weakly.
The front door slammed and he cursed, and Eliza couldn’t help her smile. He did not know his own strength sometimes.
The vision of him sliding into the bedroom, his eyes on her, would never leave her.
