Morning came slowly, a pale wash of light slipping into the hospital room and resting on the sheets like something hesitant, as if even the sun knew that Willow's body had only just stopped fighting to survive. Discharge day should have felt triumphant, but instead it settled around her with a fragile sort of weight. Her abdomen ached when she inhaled too deeply. Her stitches tugged if she moved too quickly. Her legs shook the first time she stood beside the bed, and the nurse stayed close, watching for signs of dizziness. Even so, Willow tried to smile. She wanted to look capable, even though her body felt too hollow to promise anything.
