In a near distance, Mei Deng could hear the cackling of a fire, but its warmth did not reach him. Overlapping with that sound, there were some noiseless whispers here and there, voices and words he couldn't pick out.
'I'm not dead?' he thought, recalling the stab to the back, and the huge amount of blood loss he must have incurred.
Yet, he could somehow feel his toes, no, he could feel more than that. There was something soft underneath him, a bed he presumed, or a set of pillows stacked together.
No sooner had he deduced he was on a bed, than the arrival of unorganized footsteps drew his attention.
"I just don't understand it! We've always killed everyone in our raids, what's so different about this place?!" One of the voices, belonging to an older male, at best in his early forties, cursed under his breath.
