Tristan arose with a start a few hours after being rushed to the infirmary. His heart beat rapidly in his chest and he thought his eardrums would explode.
There was a thin film of sweat on his brow and he strained to pull air into his lungs, almost like there was a firm muscular grip tightly around his neck. A nurse rushed up to him with a glass of water, "Relax Mr. Greene. You're safe."
Slapping her hands on both his cheeks, she forced him to look into her mood-ring eyes, "Follow my instructions. Breathe in deeply…"
The blonde sucked in a sharp breath only to feel his head hammer a louder, "Gently!" the nurse warned.
Right as the pain reached its peak, a pulse of fear went through the hunter and all he could feel was the intense gaze of cold unwavering death.
His breathing became erratic. The Healing magic of the bed began to hum louder as it got to repairing the hunter's mind.
"Stay with me, Tristan," the woman's voice went again.