Light filtered gradually through Ren's eyelids, a soft whitish invasion that slowly pulled him from the deep abyss of dreamless sleep.
Ren opened his eyes, blinking several times to adjust his vision to the prevailing brightness. A white canvas stretched above him: the inner fabric of a tent ceiling, illuminated by the morning light that managed to penetrate the partially open fabric door.
The mushrooms in his hair pulsed softly, as if greeting the new day. He felt curiously renewed, as if he had slept for weeks instead of hours. His body, which he remembered on the verge of collapse after the battle with the abomination, now seemed brimming with energy, each muscle relaxed, every nerve at peace.
The residual pain he had expected was conspicuously absent.
Slowly, he turned his head to inspect his surroundings. He found himself in a separate compartment, smaller than the main camp tent. The air held the faint scent of medicinal herbs and clean linen.
