The Last Of The Forsaken

Light.

I wake up but my eyes don't open.

I can hear the clutter of a few dishes or pans, or whatever is making noise outside my room.

I lay for a few more seconds before I open my eyes.

I blink a few times as vision returns and shapes and colors become sharper.

I stretch in my bed, sprawling out my body and limbs.

It is soon interrupted by a tight pain in my outer thigh.

The pain jolts me wide awake as my leg cramps.

I push air out from between my teeth, trying to not be too loud.

I grip the sheets and pull them as a vice instead of yelling.

It slowly subsides over a minute or so.

I sit up on my bed, and take a breather.

My body feels super sore in every muscle.

I stand up like a wobbly new born, and try to walk as softly as possible, using my hips to walk more than my actual legs.

I reach my door and grab the handle with it serving as something to lean on and take the weight of my legs.

I open the door and hobble out of my room like I'm walking on stilts.

I'm still breathing between my teeth since every step still hurts.

The Orc and Friends are sitting up in their blankets and pillows.

We keep a lot on standby for the winter.

The woman, and old guy look tired but still well kept after waking up.

The Orc on the other hand looks like a bat out of hell.

Her hair is all over the place and her face looks crusty.

Orcs are not known to be light sleepers and can typically kick, and toss in their sleep.

She rubs her face a bit to get out the tired.

She looks like she's staring at a blank wall and her face shows no sminge of comprehension.

"Morning." I say trying to see if she just woke up and died while sitting.

She looks like her body woke up five minutes before her brain did.

She continues to gaze onto nothing for a few more seconds before shaking her head a bit.

She rubs her eyes and replies.

"Morning." She says coughing a few seconds later.

Her voice sounds incredibly dry and raspy.

"Sheesh, are you ok?" I ask not sure if her voice could even get lower.

She nods and clears her throat.

"I'm fine." She states, voice as dry as ever.

"Stop, hearing you talk makes my throat itch, I'll get you some water."

She doesn't even look like she heard me and is still just sitting with no expression.

I walk into the hallway and go into a closet.

Every house in my village has some type of storage area where we keep a few essentials around for a rainy day.

We have some salted meat, a few herbs, some metal tools and cutlery, spoons, forks, plates, bowls, cups, and finally some big vases of water we replace every month or so.