Wheeling Gull Isle kasheho

Feeling came creeping back in to his limbs, which he learned were still attached and quite sore, and his arching back which felt bruised in many places - not that Mojag knew the tenderness was exactly that. Breathing hurt. It felt like the time he ate some meat he shouldn't have - like his airway was constricted, but really it was raw with salt.

Are you awake, child? A hanging, almost lopsided face came in to Mojag's periphery; he was not so jaded that he might flinch away from it, and in fact was quite stunned to see two bright eyes so full of warmth and life, that he was awed, made silent. He gawked and quaked in his own skin.

I -- I, I'm -- where? Where am I? It wasn't until he tried to talk in earnest, that Mojag realized how out-of-sorts he was. His teeth chattered through the words in a violent way, and he nearly caught his own tongue between them.