My wife tended to our son while Raven crouched by Fiona, talking to
her recumbent body in a slow steady voice.
“I know you can hear me,” he said, “It's not far now. Keep
listening to me, keep following my voice. Whatever else you can
hear, that's not real. That's the Weave trying to keep a hold on
you.”
Her head turned slightly, eyebrows raised above closed eyed, a low
moan escaping her lips. It was the most human sound she'd made.
“Whatever you can see,” Raven continued, insistent, “That's not
real. It's not really there, just a figment of the Weave trying to
distract you.”
Fiona moaned again, her left arm moving, bringing the back of her
hand to her brow.
“You're nearly there,” Raven told her, “Not far now. Keep
following my voice.”
Even as he spoke, I found myself gasping with shock as a very short
chap, a dwarf of some kind I think, wandered blithely into the living
room.
