Fendros let his body be taken by the blinding, irresistible force. He did not feel himself land. In lieu of any thought, any sensation, he breathed. He focussed on his breathing.

He could hear and feel his breathing. Nothing else.

By the time his eyes opened, he had to recall how to move his head and read his senses as if they were distant memories. But Ahnasha was immediately recognised.

"Ahna..." he croaked slowly. Habit brought his arm up to take her hand. He could feel a dull soreness in the rest of his limbs, and he obeyed their desire to remain still.

He took in a deeper breath. More awareness returned. "The fight...we have to finish Vile off..." he tried to sit up. A shot of pain barbed through his side where a flesh wound from a stray spear was still healing. He gasped and fell back onto the grass. Only now did he realise he was still in the form of a werewolf, with a certain ring on his finger.