Insects chirped in the distance, their noises mingling with the sounds of bells ringing in his skull. As his vision began to clear, he moved to get up. Pain rattled his frame, a snowstorm of flickering lights nearly blinding him once more. He bit back a groan and used a tree to leverage himself into a seated position. The rough bark tore at his back and every touch was its own tiny hell. After a few moments, the world seeming to sway around him, he managed to sit erect. He heard a hiss in the foliage a ways before him, the sound followed by cursing. He didn’t need to recognize her voice to realize it was the Red Witch, still alive. Adrenaline sparked alive inside his veins at the memory of where he was. He looked down and stifled a groan when he saw a dark stain spreading along the side his tunic. The wound at his ribs likely torn open, he had clearly lost a lot of blood while he lay there unconscious. The witch growled and cursed again, her voice even closer now. He could hear the snap of twigs and the flutter of leaves as she moved through the woods toward him, not bothering to hide her approach.
