When the man woke, he was inside a small wooden house. Preserved food hung heavily from the rafters above him. He was laid beside a wall, near nude, on a thin, padded mattress on the floor with a straw pillow and a quilt to offer him warmth and comfort. Neither were plush, but they kept his head off the floor and his body heat close. His head ached from the lasting effects of exhaustion and too long sleeping, and his eyes were sensitive to light, and his ears to sound. His chest ached and felt stiff. His bare torso was bound with light green, stiff bandages wound about it to keep pressure on those wounds which had before leaked blood. His dry mouth was filled with the taste of dirt, leaves, and vinegar, and though breathing was tough, it was not quite as painful as freshly broken ribs usually caused. His arm, limp last he knew, was splinted and wrapped in the same light green, stiff bandages-- same for his broken leg.
His whole body felt halfway numb, and his hips were sore. His hair was pasted to his skin by evaporated sweat, but beside that, his body and hair were clean.
The house was dark, lit only by a dying fire in the fireplace across the room-- in the direction of his feet. Beside him, another set of bedding like his own was occupied by a woman's figure that partially obstructed a third set of bedding (minus pillow) that was wrapped tightly around a smaller figure.
From what he could see of her face, the woman looked well-matured, with wild hair that was all curls and waves, and a round face with a few small lines of age visible in the shadows. Above her quilt, a lightweight white nightgown hugged her neck, though left her arms and shoulders entirely uncovered.
On the far side of the room, opposite him, a shelf held what looked to be most of the small family's worldly belongings-- toys, clothes, tools, and other things lined the shelf neatly. His belongings, including his smashed breastplate and scrapped shield, were neatly laid out on one of the shelves.
On the side of the shelf opposite the fireplace, in the light of the moon from the two full-height windows, another room branched off, with neither wall nor door to separate the two spaces. The window was made with small, thick squares of glass, held together with lead and metal.
The woman slept peacefully, despite eerie sounds from the other side of the wall-- sounds like starving men, of wood and leather on flesh and of clattering of old-fashioned weapons and armor, all in a slow, almost lazy manner, as though the ones making such noises were nearly dead and fighting desperately with their final breaths waiting on their lips.
The woman made a noise, a soft huff as she shifted closer to the man until a soft forearm rested against his upper arm, warm from a night under blankets. This close, it was not hard to make out the darkened circles under her eyes, or the light scent of a woman's body, soap, and mint. Her hair, all wild, seemed to seek whatever way it could to escape the woman's head, despite being attached.
