I opened my eyes to a dazzling stream of light, flinching and squinting and trying to think where I was, even as a door closed, leaving me with the dim glow of a lightstick. The dreams of the night, full of running, ravening beastmen, Rushton in their midst, running, too, slipped away before I could grasp them. ‘I dreamed . . .’ I began, and then stopped, for I could see a wolf lying beside me, its pale pelt streaked with dark red patches. Gobor, I thought. ‘So, it was no dream.’ Then I thought confusedly that it must have been a dream, because Rushton had been in it. Dameon was there, then, setting aside the lightstick and squatting down to rest a gentle hand on the unconscious wolf. ‘Don’t worry. Ana has tended his wounds and then she gave him something to make him sleep deeply. She sent the androne back to the platform to get her healing kit first thing this morning, and she wishes to see you when you are well enough to walk.’ ‘The androne?’ I echoed.
