Ren woke up to the sound of crickets and the rustle of leaves.
It was pitch black, save for the bioluminescent mushrooms glowing softly around her. She was lying in a nest of giant, velvet-soft fern leaves, covered from neck to toe in Syris' heavy robe.
She tried to sit up.
"Ow," Ren whispered.
She tried to move her legs.
"Mother of Jesus," she hissed through gritted teeth.
Her body felt less like a human woman and more like a piece of dough that had been kneaded, stretched, and thrown against a wall repeatedly for six hours. Every muscle from her neck to her toes was protesting. Her inner thighs felt like they had run a marathon while doing the splits.
"Stupid snake," she grumbled, flopping back onto the leaves. "Stupid, sexy, insatiable noodle man."
She stared up at the cavern ceiling, trying to gauge the time. Was it night? Was it early morning? Had she been asleep for an hour or a week?
