XLIV

 

 

PAIN. IT SHOT through him, jolted him awake. A stabbing in his side. There was a sound, like bellows – a loud, almost musical wheezing. It was a moment before he realised it was his own breathing. His teeth chattered, his whole body shook. He lacked the strength to stop it – felt distant from himself, disconnected.

He tried to open his eyes. They resisted, felt glued together. Moving his tongue, he could feel it rasp against his palate. The inside of his mouth was bone dry and tasted of woodsmoke.

At his back, now, he felt a hand, supporting him, firmly but gently. Something hot touched his cracked lips. A scalding, salty liquid was spooned into his mouth. It burnt his tongue, but as it flowed down his throat its effect was instant – flooding into his muscles, reviving him like a potion. He sucked at it eagerly.

Then the hot liquor flowed too fast and made him choke. He spluttered convulsively and passed out with the pain.