“We?”
The small door at the foot of Rain’s bed creaked open. A middle-aged man, human but not as tall as most, slid his frame through.
He was dressed in loose-fitting pantaloons and a dark brown tunic. Wearing a close-fitting beard and sporting a bald head, he spoke with a quiet yet firm voice, “Awake?”
The old woman stood. “She has recovered.”
“Indeed. No doubt because of your skills.”
The old woman headed for the small door. “My skills were hardly needed.”
The bald man sat down on the bed next to Rain, and with a smirk, he announced, “Our savior.”
Rain lay back on the bed. She had spent her life judging people in an instant, whether they would be a danger or a comfort. This man was no threat. There was no ill will in his heart. The warrior sat back, staring at the ceiling. This ma
