[/html]It was an exhausted sleep, free of dreams and nightmares both, and though a quiet anxiety never left her, she rested. For all her anger and bitterness, she knew that this was the safest place she had been in two years. Deep in the heart of the clan her father had run away from, she lay in a bed of warm furs swathed in her sister's scent. It was cruel, but she was lucky, and she knew it. And she knew it would not last, which was ever more the reason for her to rest and sleep as thoroughly as she could while she still could. Take what could be taken.
In the late afternoon, she opened her pale eyes, but did not move for a long while. Myrika's breathed softly behind her, but she could not tell if his father's other daughter was awake or asleep. The building was silent, and the horses outside were quiet. The aching in her head was not so painful just then, and the fever had long since subsided. Her shoulder, newly bandaged, stung a bit, but did not bother her much as she continued to lay there. When she let her mind drift with her eyes still open, she could almost imagine that they were not in Inferni. This was just some other place. And their father would be home soon.
Almost.
Eventually she sat up, still facing away from her sister, the Infernian, the branded Lykoi. It was bright in the room, though the sun did not shine in directly. Cassandra felt exposed without her cloak, but it was a small thing for the moment. The small fire burned still with a pleasant woody scent that mixed in with the smell of meat, both raw and cooked. Her stomach did rumble, but it felt strange and distant. She was in a strange and distant place. And she didn't know what to do.
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