"You have a strange habit of passing out, don't you?" Horacio's voice rang in Pete's ears, waking him up. The boy yawned loudly, stretching as if he had slept for a hundred years. 'How long have I been out?'
He felt groggy and disoriented as he sat up on the bed. Horacio was standing before a desk, facing away. The mage was incredibly busy, crushing herbs, dicing leaves, and heating potions.
'What is he cooking?'
Pete looked around the room. It was minimalistic, with polished wooden furniture and woolen rugs. There was a classic medieval look about it.
An open window overlooked an extensive garden. The boy got to his feet and walked over to enjoy the natural scenery.
The sun had just risen above the horizon, casting a tangerine glow over the greenery. Thrushes sang cheerily from the low-hanging branches of maple trees. Bees and hummingbirds wandered, looking for nectar. A brook babbled from somewhere not far away.
"Where am I?" Pete asked.
