I woke once, and tried to open my eyes. Though everything was blurry, I knew it was still raining. My golden hair was torn into messy, damp ringlets and my clothes were soaked through. I was sinking deep into the mud.
I made an attempt to push myself up, but I could not move my purple, swollen, broken arm. My only thought was, before I blacked out again was, I'm going to die here, and the bastard won't get his damn money.
I woke for the second time. I was lying in a bed, with a fire blazing across from me.
The moment I opened my eyes, I felt an awful head ache, making my fevered head spin. I immediately shut them again.
"Who is she?" a small voice whispered.
"Shh!" a series of voices answered.
"She's awful pretty. Is her hair real?" a small hand grabbed a piece and pulled.
I groaned and tried to turn over, but my aching arm and a hand stopped me from jerking away.
"Take this," said the owner of the hand. She lifted a wooden bowl to my lips