Ralph and the Pixie

Deborah was so mortified that she covered her face with her hands and began to weep, quietly.

‘Come now!’ said the nurse brusquely in a no-nonsense tone, without pausing from her work, ‘you’ll feel much better when you’re clean and the sheets are changed. There is no reason for you to feel shame.’ As soon as the nurse was done washing her, she changed the linen and wrapped a long sheet around Deborah from her calves to her under-arms. As she draped a warm blanket over the young woman, the Elf said, ‘You may find this a bit restricting, but if you try to move your leg or do so in your sleep, you will find the experience very painful.’

Drifting off again, Deborah reflected that this was not like in the movies where people defied all pain (and logic) by ripping arrows out of their own bodies and kept on fighting . . .

Ralph woke early laying on his back, not feeling overly refreshed, but more that he’d overslept. Lifting his head he discovered that food had been provided, laid out on a small table which stood in front of a tall, narrow window to his right. ‘Mm. Room service,’ he muttered, rubbing at the stubble on his chin. Malina, still fast asleep, was pressed comfortably to his side, head on his shoulder, face uplifted, the bridge of her nose pressed to the underside of his chin; where their bodies touched felt slightly damp with sweat, but comfortable.