Warm blood flowed down her chest, and the last sounds Jocelynn made before darkness claimed her were wet, gurgling sobs.
She'd failed again. But at least this time it had been quicker. At least this time she hadn't been smothered by the cold, wet earth.
It was a small comfort in her moment of failure.
Pain returned when warmth flooded through her body, pushing and twisting the broken bones back into place while the Olive Seed's witchcraft knitted her flesh back together. Once again, she found herself lying in the mud while the wooden perversion of Ashlynn's face looked down at her in disappointment.
"Again?" the Olive Seed asked.
"Again," Jocelynn spat. This time had been different. Next time could be different too. She just had to find a way…
This time, in the cart, she begged.
"Sir Tommin," she whispered with broken lips, speaking through the sodden sheet. "Sir Tommin, please. I'm alive. Take me to the temple. Please. High Priest Aubin will know what to do… please…"
