Tharn woke as the wagon rocked with a bone-jarring thump. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. A tiny blacksmith was trying to hammer a window out of his skull and it took a moment to comprehend the ropes that held his arms and legs apart. He was lying in the back of the wagon. By the violent rocking they were apparently traveling off-road. His tongue was swollen with thirst, and his belly twisted and growled. How long had he been here, he wondered, to have such gnawing in his belly? The wagon hit another rock and his head slammed against the floorboard.
�Hey!� he tried to yell but only managed a croak. It was enough though, as a woman sat up next to him. She smiled and took the lid off of a small barrel next to her. Tharn tried to speak but his thoughts were muddled. Before he could frame a coherent question she was squeezing a sponge over his lips. The water was brackish but he swallowed anyway, almost biting the sponge in his thirst. She squeezed the sponge tightly as he drank, then sat back with a shy smile. Tharn puzzled briefly about her look of near-adoration, then he lost consciousness again.