Chapter 59: The Ninth Seal, Part 1
Raffé woke to dull light and the smells of dusty earth, old tents, metal and smoke and a crush of people. He stared up at the top of the tent for a moment, then slowly sat up and looked around. It was empty, though there was another cot on the opposite end, a discarded red tunic lying across the unmade blankets, and the broken remains of a familiar bow. Axel had made it?
Relief coursed through him but could not entirely grab hold. His head felt heavy, thick. He could not seem to entirely wake. Every part of him was stiff and sore from healing, with a deep, dull ache that said there was more to heal but not quite enough blood to do itthough he hazily remembered Kristof offering his wrist. How long had he been asleep? Where were the others? He could hear the bustle of the camp, could count the exact number out there, but he could not pick out if Telmé and Kristof were among them.