Ford silently growled at himself, hating the weak feeling of waking up from involuntary unconsciousness.
This was becoming a habit, and a stupid one at that. Humiliating to have fainted–how many times now?--in front of Mia and her family. Absolutely mortifying.
Mia!
The last image he had before blacking out from magic overuse was Mia lunging towards the monster with his small whittling knife in her hand.
Before he could even manage the energy to pull his eyelids open, he calmed himself. He could feel her hand in his. It was all right. She was there, beside him, comforting him as much as she was preserving her own magic.
He squeezed it lightly, and realized that it was completely limp. His eyes snapped open with concern, and turned toward the feeling of her presence.
She was laying beside him, unconscious and pale.
Ford sat bolt upright, confused and alarmed, the questions sticking in his throat as he struggled to ask them.