The time comes in flashes of both pain and foggy headed comfort as warmth rushes through my veins.

Something pricks at my side, and other things prickle my nose and remind me of the deep outdoors are pressed against my forehead and chest.

Hints of soothing voices and soft hands penetrate nightmares while other, powerful hands clasp my arms to my sides.

“Easy hon. We’re here to help ya,” a voice says, and it soothes me enough that I forget why I was fighting.

Mumbling, and then, “Give him another dose. If he moves during this, I could nick the artery.”

A prick to my neck and soothing warmth steals into my veins.

I should fight, and sometimes I do, but mostly sluggish comfort stirs in my veins, making me wish to stay in this hazy place permanently.

Voices penetrate my subconscious. Warmth and safety are a balm of comfort despite the prickling hairs on the back of my neck. My mind is slow to come to, but I trust my instincts.

Something dangerous is here.

“How is he?” The gruff voice takes a moment to register, but... The Imperial. No wonder my senses are edgy.

Morgana chuckles without humor. “Do ya want my answer or his? He’s fine and will chase after your dragons now. But in my opinion, he should be dead.”

Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence.

A prick to my neck makes me jerk away and grasp the offending hand at the wrist in an action made instinctive from endless practice. I manipulate the hand until it drops the needle. The shattering rebounds inside the small shack, making me wince. Glass is expensive.

“Easy there. It’s just me, Shefa Bridge.”

I look up into her deep purple eyes. They are weary, with red rims round the whites, and deep bags beneath them. Did they stay up all night treating me? I see no malice in her gaze, just honest, tired truth, and an uneasiness that I'm not sure I can place. The hair on her head is even more disheveled than before. I didn't believe that to be possible.

I drop her hand and wince again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. I was just going to give you something to sleep.”

I shoot a glance her way as I step down from the bed where I had bunched into a crouch, ready to pounce. My healing ankle gives beneath me and I catch myself on a small brown chair beneath the dragon painting in this unique healer's shack. I suck in a startled breath at the pain even as I wonder what was in the needle.

“Wolfsbane?” I ask in a measured tone, despite the bitterness coating my stomach at the thought of such a thing.

Her eyes go wide and the sharp, iron scent of indignant fury rises from her. “No. Absolutely not. Who would use wolfsbane?”

I shrug to cover up my relief. “It’s the only way I know of to keep a Shifter pliable. Or drugged.” I take a breath, finding my chest sore and deeply aching, but the edge of burning, intense pain gone.

“That’s horrid stuff. No. I would never." A few choice words that would do a pirate proud makes my lips tip up at the edges. I'm liking this lady more by the minute. "A calming mix of herbs and root work well on any: Human or Other.”

“Should’ve given it to ya a whole hour sooner,” Morgana grumbles. She looks just as weary but twice as cranky as her counterpart.

I chuckle even as I watch the Imperial who stands at the door. “You’d keep me in bed for a lifetime.”

“Ya’re too stubborn to see it’d do ya some downright good!” Morgana says in a huff, her foot tapping the ground.

I casually straighten against the chair and shoot her a cheeky grin. “You’d be right on that. Except I have two wonderful healers who take exceptional care of me, so I heal in no time.”

Her cheeks flush as she mumbles incoherently about crazy, stubborn Shifters.

The Imperial crosses to a couple strides before me. “May I check?”

I look at him askance. “What?”

He gives a slight bow and touch of his fist to his shoulder. “May I be sure, Salom Imperia?”