Tavin stirred in his bed, slowly coming to consciousness. His head hurt. Everything hurt. He opened his eyes and the world came into focus. Dim sunlight streamed in through an open window—it must be dawn. He looked around, wondering where he was.
The door to the small room was open, and not far away he could hear the clang of metal on metal in a steady, rhythmic pattern. Tavin lay there for a few minutes, taking in deep breaths through the soreness, letting it set in, then he pushed himself up. He took a few unsteady steps through the door, and through a second window he could see Bennett, sitting at his anvil, working away.
Tavin wandered out to the open forge.
“It’s good to see you up and on your feet again,” Bennett said without looking up.