[Deorlin]

Deorlin groaned heavily, his eyes half opening. His tongue felt like leather and his thrist was enormous.

"Water . . . water." he managed to get out of his parched throat, although the words were greatly slurred.

"Water?" Izrenna said with a small laugh. "I'd have thought you had had enough of water to last you for a lifetime." Even as groggy as he was, Deorlin could still hear the relief in her voice.

He felt her slip her hand behind his head, lifting it so that the flask she held in her other hand could more easily reach his mouth. "This will do you better than water, for the moment, anyway." she said softly. The contents poured into his mouth, and though at first he coughed and spluttered, the liquid cooled and refreshed his burning throat. He gulped greedily and gratefully.

"What . . . what happened? Where are we? Are the others gone?" He gazed at Izrenna's concerned face and knew that he was in serious condition, although his own body had not yet quite caught on to the fact. But he heard no other noises, other than his own labored breathing. No sound of horses, no talking or moving about. Instinctively he knew, they were alone.

"The horses, the thieves, have they gone after them still? How long have I lain here?"

His little strength spent, he let his head fall back to the earth. But he looked at Izrenna, waiting for her to tell what she could.