Pain was the whole of her world, and like no pain she had ever felt.
Andraste bit back a groan as a slow bubble of agony swelled within her, filling her with the slow scrape of glass on flesh and the crush of brick on bone. Everything hurt, every joint felt inflamed and every exhalation of breath brought a new ache. The world spun around her, and every jolt of the Crossley’s wheels brought fresh hurts rising to the surface.
They’d carried her out of the bakery, taken her to the automobile,...