She came out of it slowly. The light still hurt her eyes, but there wasn’t much coming through between the plank walls of the barn. It might have been before dawn: the air was cool.
It had been early morning when she had lain down to nurse her wound. She couldn’t even look under her hastily-applied ersatz bandage for fear of how it might appear now. At least it didn’t hurt as much.
Had she beat it? It hadn’t been much of a bite, though the infection had been spectacular. Had she fought it off? Was she going to live?