Thoren woke up a few hours later to a head that's trying to kill him with pain. He wondered if a hundred needles pierced his skull, for it hurt. It hurt so much.
Tears streamed down his cheeks even as he tried to hold them back and the young boy tried to cry away the pain.
It wasn't leaving.
For a whole hour, he rolled, curled and thrashed on the bed, trying to wish it away.
An hour later, the young boy stopped struggling. The pain might've subsided or maybe he just got used to it.
With great effort, he rose from the bed and staggered a few steps towards the door.
With a click, he saw the dirty street.
"Drisda slums…" He looked around, trying to find who saved him.
"Shh!!! Why are you out? Go in, in! You haven't healed yet." The green-skinned boy rushed from a ditch he seemed to be digging and gently shoved him into the thatched hut.
