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Paige’s eyelids fluttered open. She found herself in an unfamiliar space, lying on her stomach with her cheek pressed against a velour pillow. A haze hung over her vision at the edges. She winced as she fidgeted. Warmth spread throughout her back, followed by pain.
She grunted as she balled her hands into fists, prevented from fully closing them by thick bandages. She raised her head up, scanning the space. A long string of drool stretched from her lips to the pillow.
“Ugh,” she groaned, wiping at her mouth and incurring more pain from her back.
She searched the space as her memory slowly returned and the hazy sluggishness in her mind faded.
“Dewey’s,” she whispered, finally recalling her surroundings. “I’m in Dewey’s nest.”
Paige stared around at the circular bed. True to Dewey’s earlier assessment, her feet hung over the edge. He’d done an admirable job of propping her on pillows to lie flat without having to curl her into a ball to fit.
Paige’s lower lip quivering as she attempted to push herself up to sit. The pain in her back made it difficult to move.
“How is it?” Dewey’s voice asked from the doorway.
“A-ah,” she stammered, trying to put on a brave face. “It’s–“
She stopped, afraid he’d hear the trembling in her voice.
She blinked back her tears, still trying to sit up.
The sound of Dewey’s beating wings filled her ears as he approached. A paw pressed against her head gently, but firmly. “Don’t try to move. Just lie still.”
“It really hurts,” she breathed out as she allowed herself to relax back into the pillows.
“I can imagine,” Dewey said. “This’ll hurt a bit, too. Sorry, but I need to check the wound.”
Paige grimaced as Dewey gingerly pulled away the bandages plastered to her back and peered inside.
“Well?” Paige inquired.
“Too soon to tell.”
Paige balled her fingers, her nails digging into a bandage. Dewey must have treated the torn flesh on her hands, too. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“I’d hoped there would be more progress in closing the wound. It would be nice not to have to do this twice.”
Paige shot her eyes wide. “Twice? No, I can’t take another one of these.”
Dewey patted her head again. “At the worst, this will only help us determine how to move forward.”
Paige crinkled her forehead, and her voice rose an octave as frustration and panic set in. “What’s that mean?”
“It means if this general remedy doesn’t work, it rules out a whole host of beasts. For example, if this were a werewolf, of any species, which is my working premise given their interest in the mirror and your quest to acquire it, your wound should respond to this treatment. Even if it doesn’t heal it entirely, it should help. We may need a second treatment, but it would work.”
“And is the wound healing?”
“So far, no.”
Paige’s eyes bulged, and she thudded a fist against a thick pillow. “So, what does that mean?”
“It means it’s too soon to tell.”
“You wouldn’t have checked it if you thought that.”
Dewey’s wings slowed, and he lowered himself to the edge of the nest and perched on it. He twisted to face Paige, his tail flicking. “It may not heal it at all.”
Paige’s lip trembled as she recalled the pain that had rendered her unconscious. Had it all been for naught?
