Treehouse

"How are you feeling?" Greta asked, kneeling down next to them.

August didn't respond for a moment. The world was spinning, and Graeme's energy was still thrumming through her. How should she feel? She looked down at her arm, which had mostly healed but retained a gnarled, pink scar. The memories of the forest and of Marius came rushing to the surface, and a wave of fear shuddered through her.

"I feel okay," she said unsteadily, but Graeme could feel how her body reacted to it. He had to stifle a protective growl when he scented the spike of her fear.

August ran her finger along the scar slowly. "What happened? How long have I been out?"

"Three weeks and two days, to be precise," Greta responded. She smiled and touched August's leg lightly. "We're glad to have you back," she said, looking up at Graeme. "She feels cooler now. Can you bring her back to the room? She can put on dry clothes, and I need to check her vitals."