June 13
Zeth woke with pain in his right shoulder and neck. He blinked a number of times, surfacing from a dream world of unconsciousness. A strange bedroom surrounded him with a sharp, pivoted ceiling. One window overlooking deep woods allowed sunshine to brush inside the small room. He smelled pancakes and honey, which he thought strange. He tried to determine where he was, but couldn’t, and blinked a few more times. The rear of his mouth felt dry. He lay on what he had guessed was a bed, motionless in the morning—yes, it had to be morning because of the sun’s position on the horizon, its trespassing and golden rays spilling through the nearby woods—newness, weak for some strange reason. He felt groggy, exhausted, and unsure if he were alive or dead. Eventually, being awake for no more
