Anya sat in the waiting room, her eyes following the second hand of the clock.  Minutes turned to hours, and still there was no news of Morozko's health.  No matter how often she asked the doctors, they refused to answer her, saying she couldn't enter the operating room.  So she waited, desperate, her thoughts turned to the burning inn and gory battlefield.  How many members of her family were dead?  How had they broken through Liliya's encampments to the north?  Was Morozko going to survive?  A myriad questions rattled her mind.

“Anya?” a nurse asked.

Anya looked up.  “Yes?” she said quietly.

The nurse smiled softly.  “Your friend is stable.”...