Recovery
The past two and a half weeks had not been Adam's favorite on the island. The entirety of March after the Temple, such as was left, had been spent in the transformed hut, recovering from the more pressing injuries. The adrenaline of the situation had served as a decent numbing device, and such a thing was fortunate...as he had difficulty getting out of bed the day after.
He assumed the primary injury to his back had come from being flung into a wall by the Kali creature. He knew the discolored and swollen wrist was from the same wall that had landed the Doctor Jackson in the hospital. It was probably fortunate the man decided to bury himself in the temple bricks then, as it kept the other's attentions away from his own injuries.
Adam didn't need doctors to tell him what was wrong with him. Even if he had checked in, they wouldn't have done anything he hadn't. Four centuries gave him a good bit of leeway--he would have wagered he knew as much or more than any random doctor or nurse, anyway.
But that was in the past now, as was the oppressive heat of the jungle, and the incriminating patches of dried skin that had grown across his arms immediately following the temple 'adventure'. Vanished in the blink of an eye overnight. While the island shifted...it seemed to release its grip on his abilities, and allowed his body to cleanse itself of the disease.
Since the shift, the island had rained heavily against the roof of his returned hut, as if attempting to make up for the hot month preceding it. Adam had kept primarily to his hut, venturing out of it only to wash and find food. Mostly to expedite the healing process--partly because he didn't need anyone else to observe the many scrapes and dark bruises, and need hear them state the obvious.
The bruises from the adventure had faded somewhat, as had the pain in his back. The sprain on his wrist was not fairing quite so well. Clearly the injury had not been merely mild. Still, he retained mobility--painful as it might have been--so he doubted it was very severe.
All of that aside, he had not been able to do much of his morning training all month, due to his recovery efforts. Now that movement did not elicit winces, he made his way out to a small clearing near his hut through the early morning dew of the island. His left wrist was in no condition to use the sword, but he could practice just as well with his right only.
Tossing aside the blue shirt he had returned to after the exploration, the pinkish-green light of the rising sun turned the patterned bruises across his torso odd colors, and underscored the healing cuts and scrapes. It wasn't so bad, really, nothing that needed medical attention.
But as the blade cut through the air, and the tired muscles in his arm complained of the activity, Adam mentally vowed to inflict much more than this on whomever had brought him here and suppressed his abilities.
He assumed the primary injury to his back had come from being flung into a wall by the Kali creature. He knew the discolored and swollen wrist was from the same wall that had landed the Doctor Jackson in the hospital. It was probably fortunate the man decided to bury himself in the temple bricks then, as it kept the other's attentions away from his own injuries.
Adam didn't need doctors to tell him what was wrong with him. Even if he had checked in, they wouldn't have done anything he hadn't. Four centuries gave him a good bit of leeway--he would have wagered he knew as much or more than any random doctor or nurse, anyway.
But that was in the past now, as was the oppressive heat of the jungle, and the incriminating patches of dried skin that had grown across his arms immediately following the temple 'adventure'. Vanished in the blink of an eye overnight. While the island shifted...it seemed to release its grip on his abilities, and allowed his body to cleanse itself of the disease.
Since the shift, the island had rained heavily against the roof of his returned hut, as if attempting to make up for the hot month preceding it. Adam had kept primarily to his hut, venturing out of it only to wash and find food. Mostly to expedite the healing process--partly because he didn't need anyone else to observe the many scrapes and dark bruises, and need hear them state the obvious.
The bruises from the adventure had faded somewhat, as had the pain in his back. The sprain on his wrist was not fairing quite so well. Clearly the injury had not been merely mild. Still, he retained mobility--painful as it might have been--so he doubted it was very severe.
All of that aside, he had not been able to do much of his morning training all month, due to his recovery efforts. Now that movement did not elicit winces, he made his way out to a small clearing near his hut through the early morning dew of the island. His left wrist was in no condition to use the sword, but he could practice just as well with his right only.
Tossing aside the blue shirt he had returned to after the exploration, the pinkish-green light of the rising sun turned the patterned bruises across his torso odd colors, and underscored the healing cuts and scrapes. It wasn't so bad, really, nothing that needed medical attention.
But as the blade cut through the air, and the tired muscles in his arm complained of the activity, Adam mentally vowed to inflict much more than this on whomever had brought him here and suppressed his abilities.