Morgaine awoke with a gasp, a deep breath of air reminding her now-stirring form that it was not yet dead. Her eyes still closed to the world, she spent the next few moments re-learning to breathe, slowly, steadily. She had not died there, at least she didn't think she did. However, she had fallen into a void of sleep so deep she may as well have been. With an arm that almost creaked with the strain, she pulled her hand up to grasp her head. Yes, her tangled hair was still there, its bun having come loose somehow. It did not matter how, that can always be fixed later, when her strength returns. Behind her hair . . . the reassuring feel of cloth. Without looking, she could tell its colour, and the familiar weight upon her back. How fortunate that she hadn't lost her greatest protection. Well, nothing left to do but open her eyes.

When at last she did, Morgaine wished she had kept them closed. A nightmare, that was the most succinct word for it. Blood and guts lay scattered about the floor, staining the wood reddish brown. Worse still were the creatures, scuttling about her like maggots on a corpse. She was not a corpse! With a half-asleep swipe, she slapped a few off of her body, and they dropped with a low chortle into the ground, passing through it like air. Was the ground itself but an illusion? Feeling was coming back now, as she stretched her fingers on the other hand. Grasping the sides of the bed firmly, she arose into a sitting position, to take stock of her surroundings.

The room was large, and sparsely adorned. It reminded her more of a wartime field hospital. People in rows, columns, some clearly dead, some who appear undamaged. Some she doubted severely were human at all, with their strange veiny appearance and pallid complexion. One most disturbingly not human at all, or at least not completely. A vaguely mannish body with otherwise-comical dimensions, long wide palms that ended in claws, attached to spindly arms covered in an animal's hair. A portruding jaw that housed rows of jagged round teeth. A demon, straight from a fairy tale. 

"Well go'on then, ye," she half-whispered, to herself. "Can't be sitting around forever." She then pushed herself off of her cot, her legs hanging off hitting the ground with a clean tap. So, this is how a hunter's life begins.