Not My Bed

I am told that the first thing one becomes aware of when waking is whether one is in one's own bed or not. For me, it has always been whether I'm on my belly or back.

Some well-meaning person had put me on my back. Oh, and I could taste broth.

[You have 6/1920 biomass available.]

Damn it!

"I think he's awake." said one female voice.

"I'll go get the master." an older voice (also female) replied.

"Meh." I said. I tried to sit up, but only sank deeper into the soft mattress. I rolled to face the young female. Her face was red, by which I mean hobgoblin red, not that she was blushing. "Good morning."

"Afternoon, I think." She looked at the roof of the tent. "Fine. Good morning, how are you?"

"Famished." I said.

"There should be stew here soon." she said.

My stomach growled its acceptance.

"The master?" I asked, "Malkin?"