As if she had drunk too many pints of mead. "Onmund?" She asked, her voice coming out much groggier than she would have liked. He put a warm hand on her shoulder, his handsome, craggy features illuminated by the harsh metallic glare of a Mage light that crackled and hissed in the darkness around them. She opened her eyes to find Onmund, kneeling over her.
"Anya! Look at me!"" A stern voice said, startling her. Anya swam up to consciousness slowly, opening and closing eyes that felt as though tiny weights were tied to each eyelash.
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