Suzzanah's POV I was a feeler I admit, the term itself was very vague, arousing multiple interpretations, some of which could be very ghastly and inappropriate, but I liked the vast range of understandings the term could have. And for better or worse, I was a feeler in all respects, except the perverted ones. And why was that important? Because only if one understood what it meant to be a feeler could one truly understand how it is I functioned. And what did being a feeler mean for me? For starters, it meant that if I disliked how a cloth felt against my skin, I would not be very happy buying it. That's why shopping for clothes often made me gloomy. Because everything that felt good was too expensive and being a person of very limited economical means, I invariably had to settle for things I seldom liked. When I was a baby I used to give my sister a hard time when it came to clothing. She would put them on me, I would take them off. Then she would pick up my discarded clothes and chase me all over the place trying to get me to wear them while I insisted on frolicking around in my favorite yellow bunny printed underwear doing baby booty shakes and rug rolls. BLUSH Over the years my urges to prance around au naturel did mellow, thank the heavens, and I settled for being content with cheap but soft materials. So one can understand how uncomfortable I felt when I woke up wrapped in some rough stiff cloth which felt akin to sandpaper against my skin. I wriggled around trying to get out of the scratchy material but it was over me, under me and all around me, impossible to get out of by wiggling alone. Not to mention that movement came to me with some degree of difficulty and a discomfort closely resembling pain. Annoyed, I pried my tired eyes open but immediately regretted it when bright light pierced them like javelins digging into the ground making my eyes sting. Why was it that a sleeping or unconscious person was always forced to wake up to the brightest of lights as if the Gods themselves were paying them a visit? I groaned and clamped my eyes shut again, but much to my horror, even the inside of my eyelids looked bright now! I tried to block out the blinding whiteness by burying my face in the pillow under my head only to shoot away from it as the powerful smell of spirit, antiseptic and detergent assaulted my nostrils and choked my lungs. I coughed and scrunched up my face for a bit before my I let my facial muscles lax in shock as my situation dawned on me in the form of a question. Where was I??? Over the years I had had the experience of waking up in many different rooms- some of which I chose, some of which I didn't; some which I liked, some, I didn't; some which smelt good, others, not so much. This particular one obviously fell in all of the latter categories. And it bothered me, very much. By now my eyes were wide open, as my pupils battled the forces of the dazzling light while attempting to soak in my surroundings. I was currently in a small room with cream colored walls, one tiny glass window and just enough space to fit a bed and a body, mine to be precise. Everything in this room seemed two sizes too small for me, including the bed, as I could feel my ankles dangling outside of the bed in the air. One would think that was uncomfortable but honestly that was the only part of my body which felt free as the rest was being tightly compressed by sheets which were obviously meant for a midget, a dead one. I lifted my heavy arms and tried to shove the rough sheets off of me but the minute I bent my legs a piercing pain shot through my right lower limb making me wince and fall back onto the hard bed. Still wondering what the heck just happened I slightly moved my right ankle and hissed when sharp pain radiated from my ankle all the way to my knee. I lifted myself up on my elbows and looked around the room again as realization settled into me. I was at the hospital. That much was obvious, especially now that I looked at my exposed ankle which was tightly bandaged. But why... Like a flash flood, all the memories came rushing back to me. My venturing into the woods, my epic fall from the tree, all the running, screaming, crying and...the brown eyed wolf! When my mental flashback ended and my brain registered my current situation there was still a gaping void in the sequence of events as to how I got to the hospital seeing as I now clearly remembered having shamelessly passed out somewhere in the middle of the woods. Did I sleep walk? My sister had once told me that I talked in my sleep but did I walk too? Surely my injury wouldn't have allowed it. And even if it did, how did I find my way to a hospital I didn't even know existed up till a few minutes ago? Following that thought I face palmed and shook my head. I can't believe you're actually contemplating this option Suzzanah. One would think you had injured your head and not your leg. But then, since I obviously didn't sleep walk here, that mean... The wolf-No! The minute the thought of the wolf having brought me here came to mind I pushed it away. Yes, it was a surprisingly kind creature that tended to my wound in its own animal-like ways and its eyes held a strange intelligence that seemed a little too human for comfort but surely it would not have carried me all the way to the hospital where I'm assuming most people would have freaked out like I had and either run away from it or after it, with weapons. Suddenly I was very worried about that wolf. Relax you fool, I told myself. What weapons would a hospital be in possession of? I doubt a wolf that size would be afraid of scalpels and injections. Tranquilizers maybe? My troubling thoughts were interrupted when the small door to the room suddenly opened and a tiny balding man in a lab coat carrying a grey file scurried in. Is he a doctor? I looked intently at him as he walked up to me and gave me a curt nod before looking at the multiple monitors in the room and scribbling something into his grey file.