The first thing Miles felt was cold earth beneath his face, and the second was the unbearable throb behind his eyes.
Pain was proof he was still alive. That, and the sound of her voice.
"-les? Miles, can you hear me?"
He stirred slowly, his vision blurry, his breath shallow. Something wet trickled down from his brow. Blood, or sweat. Maybe both.
But it was the voice that pulled him fully back into himself.
"Come on, End-boy. I know you're too stubborn to die from just one… Hell of a beating."
"Mara...?" His cracked lips curled.
"There you are." She said through the bracelet on his wrist, her voice tinny but unmistakably amused. "Nice nap?"
Miles groaned as he pushed himself up with trembling arms. His coat was shredded, and the rest of his clothes were tattered and torn from the inside out. Everything ached, and even his soul felt like it had been bruised.
