It was the next day – or at least Sanria thought it was – truly, it
could have been any day in any of the spans of time, forward or
backward, for perpetuity. She sat in the Jacuzzi once more, watching
the bubbles come from the jets as the healer worked on her shoulder
muscles – lifting her arm, tsking, and examining. She was lost in the
multitudinous thoughts until the knock at the door. A simple sound and
she was back in folded dimensions, blurred just like the bubbles of her
bath. Her next recollection was laying on the floor while Throm
harangued the healer.
Sanria’s mind slogged ahead – faces popping up to be replaced
with others, all while she sat right in the same place. It was as
though time had absolutely no purpose, meaning, reason, or order, and it
sped with violent force in her head. Through this fragmented mess,
Sanria managed to tell Throm what she could of finding Visha in the
cavern. When the questions turned to the location of the rift, however,
Sanria shut down. So long as she didn’t talk, Throm would never know.
He would never be lost. He would never be hurt.
