Before the Pacific - [Day 6, Risa, Morning]

He half-slept, something between dream and reality; a restless doze, where he would stir himself awake just to make sure he was still breathing.  And then, confirmed, in the rain tapering to a sprinkle, then a mist, then the clear and clean and hazy scent left afterwards, he would drift back into that half-asleep state again. It wasn't that bad, really.  It hurt, but it wasn't that bad.  He knew he wasn't in any mortal danger from injury, just beaten.

He drifted there, in that place, breath shallow to avoid making the pain flare across his left side.  Counted himself lucky that all of the hurt was on the left, and he could lay on the right.  A matter of fact thought, like most of his waking thoughts.  His dozing thoughts were less settled; fragments and pieces and when he woke up to see the suns rising, he realized all over again that he was far more afraid of leaving this place than he was of any number of beatings.

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