A voice murmured in the distance, two voices, actually. It was Leo and Matthew, teasing each other in hushed tones over the previous night's events. Leo was giggling softly, poking fun at how Matthew had fainted in fear. Matthew, defensive but smiling, whispered curses under his breath. Though their voices were low, they carried just enough to stir the man lying on the ground nearby.
His eyes fluttered open, groggy and disoriented. His head throbbed under the bandages wrapped tightly around his brow, and his limbs felt stiff and sore. Blinking against the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above, he slowly turned his head toward the voices.
"You're awake," a calm voice said.
He jerked his head to the left. There, seated calmly on a tree stump and sharpening her sword with a black stone, was a young woman, El. Her eyes flicked briefly toward him before returning to the rhythm of her sharpening.
Leo and Matthew looked over, alerted by El's words.
