Karl stirred, a sharp groan escaping his lips. Pain lanced through his chest, his body aching like it'd been torn apart and stitched back roughly. His eyes fluttered open, blurry and heavy at first, then darting around like he couldn't hold his focus. He could swear that someone hit him. Or maybe it was just his crazy shift and release of energy.
Iora sat beside him, her hand steadying his shoulder instantly.
"Easy," she said. Her voice was soft, firm. "You're okay, Karl. I'm here."
He winced, his throat dry as sand. "Water," he rasped. "Please get me water."
Iora grabbed a canteen from the crate, uncapping it fast. She lifted it to his lips, tilting it carefully. He drank, the cool liquid soothing the burn.
His head sank back and his eyes began to close again.
"Thanks," he mumbled. Sleep pulled him under once more, his breathing slowing.
