Waking up the second time was less violent than the first, but infinitely more disorienting.
Roxy drifted back to consciousness, floating through layers of heavy, dark fog. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.
It was a rock. Dark, glossy obsidian rock that curved upward like the inside of a geode. Veins of blue glowing moss pulsed slowly along the stone, mimicking the rhythm of a breathing lung. It was beautiful, alien, and suffocating.
Roxy tried to sit up, but her body felt stiff, as if she had been starched.
She looked down at herself.
"You have got to be kidding me," she rasped. Her voice sounded small and flat in the humid air.
She wasn't wearing her tiger-skin dress anymore. Nor was she wearing the doe-skin tunic Ren had styled her in. She was naked, but she wasn't exposed.
She was wrapped from her armpits to her ankles in wide, thick strips of green, slimy material that smelled like brine and iodine.
