First it was the incoherent murmuring that seemed to go on forever, then there was the silence that tickled his nostrils and made him miss the incoherent murmurings. But it was the unmelodic whistling filtering into his ears that forced his eyes open.
The sudden flood of light made him blink repeatedly until his eyes adjusted. He was on his bed and the light that felt like a hundred ray of sun, was just the evening light that filtered into his room through the open window.
He resisted the urge to wince as a sudden bolt of pain nudged the back of his head. It was then that the memories of that afternoon flooded his mind. Badak had stabbed him, he defeated Badak in the joust; and then he fell from his horse into the dark abyss that was unconsciousness.
Lucien groaned, the awful whistling had not stopped. He craned his neck to his left and found Soren seated with his eyes closed in concentration as he blew into a flute.
