afflicted

9

When she awoke the next morning, her hand was no longer shadow-bound to the headboard. Briefly, she remembered Azriel's confession that his shadows had begun hiding from him. She wondered if he knew she was no longer secured down.

She hesitantly unfurled her body from the thin mattress and stretched her limbs. She had to bite back a moan at the glorious feeling of having all of her limbs free and able to move of their own accord. On the cold wooden floor, she went through a series of stretches. She was so stiff. It felt like her body had been shoved in a hydraulic press and was only now regaining shape.

It took her a moment longer than it should have to realize her body was naturally following some sort of warm-up routine. She couldn't recall where she'd learned it or who had taught it to her. It was incredibly efficient though. She felt better almost instantly.

Once she finished her stretches and felt more loose and alive, she pressed the shell of her ear to the door, straining to listen for any movement on the other side of the door. Hearing none, she gripped the metal knob and turned it as quietly as she could.

The door swung open with a startling lack of sound. Perhaps Azriel had oiled the hinges? She couldn't understand why he would do such a thing, but she supposed it didn't really matter either way.

Right outside the bedroom door was a small living room with a couch and fireplace. Apart from that, there was no other furniture or decor could be seen. It was an utterly bare cabin. Very impersonal. A kitchenette was in the corner of the wall opposite the living space, but it only held the very bare necessities.

Her breath hitched as she stooped to gaze out the window above the couch. It was barren outside, a winter wasteland. The ground couldn't be seen under a vicious and biting blanket of snow. It was even colder here than she'd imagined. She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself to hold in the warmth that threatened to leach from her body.

Only one door branched off from the space. She pushed it open to reveal a wash basin tub with a small faucet and a toilet. Her brow furrowed. She looked back to the couch and saw no blankets or pillows. She'd assumed Azriel had been sleeping there, but there were no other beds. Where was he sleeping? Had she been here alone all this time?

The small fire was dwindling, needing to be fed with more wood. Her body operated on autopilot, picking up a few blocks of wood from the stash she found and laying them in such a way that let the fire breathe. Within seconds, the fire was already flickering higher. She grabbed the blanket off of the bed, wrapping it around her shoulders, and sat on the floor in front of the fire, allowing it to bring her back to life slowly.

The heat seeped into her skin, and eventually, her eyes became heavy. She lay on her side on the floor, curling up into a ball as she still watched the orange haze of the flames. She closed her eyes with a hum, leaning her head on her arm. She drifted into the first peaceful rest she'd felt since she could remember.

—----------------------------------

The door opened with a thud, heavy boots hitting the floor behind her body. She sprang to life defensively, ready to take on her attacker. Except that it was only Azriel looming in the doorway, allowing cold air to drift in through the open door. It was nighttime now, the sky beyond the door void of light.

He reached his hand back and latched the door, but was still watching her with that wary look, alert as though she were a rabid animal. She picked the blanket back up and wrapped herself tighter, glaring at him as she tried to hide just how much his unannounced presence had frightened her.

He didn't speak to her, just maneuvered to the small kitchenette and set a cloth bag she hadn't noticed down on the minuscule countertop. His fighting leathers covered his body, hugging his muscles in a way that was heavily distracting.