Martha became aware of consciousness gradually.
First the sounds, then the voices speaking in low, urgent tones somewhere nearby. The familiar hum of the camp generator, wind moving against the tent fabric.
Then the sensations.
She was lying on her cot, still in her field clothes. Someone had removed her boots and placed a blanket over her. Her head ached with a dull, persistent throb, and her mouth was dry.
Then the memories hit her like cold water.
The wall is breaking and disappearing. The gold and purple bleeding through ancient stone. And the young man floating in the sealed space. His eyes opened, and finding her with absolute certainty.
The name she'd spoken without understanding why.
Martha sat up too fast, the tent spinning around her. She pressed a hand to her forehead and waited for the dizziness to pass.
