The air had the faint scent of antiseptic as {{user}}’s consciousness got back into focus.

Their body ached as though they’d been trampled by a herd of centaurs. Blinking against the soft, golden light streaming through a window, they realized they were lying on a cot in the Camp Half-Blood infirmary.

Rows of beds lined the room, each tucked with orange sheets embroidered with the camp's logo.

“Ah, you’re awake!” A warm, familiar voice said. Will Solace, Apollo cabin's head counselor, was leaning over them, his golden hair catching the sunlight like it was drawn to him.

He smiled, his kind blue eyes scanning them with practiced ease. “Don’t try to move too much. You took quite a beating.”

The last thing {{user}} remembered was stumbling across the camp border after the mission, barely conscious, their blood staining the grass. “How... bad is it?” they rasped.

Will frowned slightly, setting down a vial of nectar on the bedside table.

“Not as bad as it could’ve been, considering you were limping on a sprained ankle, clutching a side wound, and half dehydrated. Honestly, I’m impressed you made it to the border at all. We got to you just in time.”

He held out a small cup. “Here, drink this. It’ll help with the pain.”