Her eyelids were heavy and she had the bizarre notion that she was floundering underwater, her senses dimmed, her breathing thick and uncomfortable. She gasped at the air, striking out with her hands, encountering only hard, rough panels in all directions. Her heart was racing in her chest. Probing her lips with her tongue, she found that they were dry and sore. She’d clearly been asleep for some time. She wrinkled her nose. There was a cloying scent in the air, a heady aroma of flowers. The smell seemed somehow familiar, somehow comforting. It made her feel as if she wanted to curl up and go back to sleep, to lose herself in its floral embrace. She fought the urge, knowing, somewhere in the back of her mind, that it would be dangerous to allow herself to slip away again. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious, or where she was, now that she had woken. She tried to get her bearings, but her mind was slow and glacial. There was a light breeze brushing against her left cheek and she turned towards it, allowing it to play over her face.
