Arion had drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness so many times that he could no longer tell where dreams ended and waking began.
He knew pain. He knew cold. He knew the frightening sensation of his own body slipping out of his grasp no matter how hard he tried to hold on to it.
Nothing stayed simple for long.
Sometimes he was floating.
Sometimes he was falling.
He thought he heard voices through the thick water - physicians, nurses, someone speaking too quietly, and someone else issuing orders in the tone adults use when they are trying not to sound afraid. Every sound came to him warped. Too far away one moment, painfully close the next.
His body no longer felt like a thing that belonged to him.
That was the worst part.
