Pat didn't want to hear it, but it refused to leave, becoming louder, more frantic, adding to it the faint call of her name. She groaned and sat up, wincing at a sharp tug in the small of her back. The heels of her hands pressed hard against her eyes to drive off sleep, and what felt like a thin layer of cotton over her teeth made her want to spit. It was a stupid thing, taking a nap in the late afternoon; she never felt rested afterward, and though this was one of the few times she'd awakened without a headache she still felt as though a rubber hammer were working hard to rectify the error. It was dark. And when she swung her legs to the floor and stood, a shin cracked against the coffee table. She swore and reached behind her, fumbling along the outline of the sofa until her hand found the brass pole of the floor lamp. A tug at the chain and both bulbs glared on, shutting her eyes against imagined pain while her free hand rubbed angrily at her leg. "All right!" she called when the knocking started again.
What do You think about [Oxrun Station] The Bloodwind?
