Another Thornfield

A gentle touch grazed Seraphina's shoulder, pulling her from the fragile grasp of sleep. She stirred, her body instinctively tensing before her mind could catch up. The world around her felt heavy, slow, as if she were wading through a thick fog.

"Seraphina," a voice called softly, almost hesitant.

Her breath hitched, her heart lurching in response as she jolted upright. The cushions beneath her shifted, the blanket draped over her slipping to the floor as her head snapped toward the voice.

Seraphina has dozed on the couch after returning from the hospital late at night. Elara's temperature went down so she was released.

"Elara?" The name came out in a rasp, raw with worry.