[color=fff79a][b]Hazel Baker[/b][/color][hr]

She woke up with a grimace, as pain racked her entire body.

It felt as if someone took a tenderizing mallet to every inch of her body, then went crazy on her right arm. Hazel was sure that if she was to take off the chainmail and her clothes, her right arm would be bruised deep purple. She wasn't sure what was wrong with her right hand, it felt as if her bones were pieces of hot steel grinding against each other. Trying to raise her arms, the left snagged immediately on the cuffs securing her to the bed she was lying on.

By reflex she bit down on her back teeth. [i][color=2e2c2c]"In events of capture..."[/color][/i]

It did not take long for her to wake up completely, enough to notice she was in a white sterile looking room, lying on a bed she was also cuffed to. There were new cuffs on her arms and legs, probably the source of that incredible feeling of being suppressed. Feeling as if her nerves were red hot barbed wire, she brought her right hand to her face. Had it not been for the gloves, she suspected she would had had worse injuries like multiple broken fingers. As it was, three of her fingers seemed bent unnaturally; judging from how it felt, it was simple dislocation. Her face felt as if someone ran a cheese grater on it, and she suspected those flaky bits stuck to her face was her own drying blood.

But Hazel was still alive.

Alive and imprisoned again in a small room. In a way it was reassuring, a familiar feeling of security and certainty. There would be guards out there, if her experiences were any indication. Reaching her right hand over to her left, she gritted her teeth as she popped out her fingers one by one back into position.

She was hungry, thirsty and in pain, not to mention tired and slightly disoriented by the extra cuffs they slapped on her. But still, she closed her eyes, and fell asleep.