“Ah’m alive …”
“Did he say something?”
“Him? No, he’s been laid up here for months, ever since they pulled him out of the sea. He’s a dead man — he just isn’t smart enough to stop breathing yet.”
“Ah’m alive …”
“Doctor, his lips moved that time! I think he’s waking up!”
The voices moved nearer.
“Impossible! The height they saw him fall — and he landed on his head! Even if he’s not dead, he should be a vegetable.”
“Ah could murder a wee pint. Me throat’s parched …”
“Quickly, lad! Run to the inn and get him a pint — several!”
Now there was the sound of water sloshing, which made him flinch.
“Easy there, my friend. Just getting a cool cloth to wash your face — you’re sweating something fierce.”
“What happened ta me? Why cannae Ah open me eyes?”
“You don’t remember the battle? We saw the final battle with Deathwing. All those warriors on their back — the crew of the Lady Mehley saw you fall off. They were as shocked as anything to find you alive, floating in the water.”
“Did Ah kill him?”
“Oh, aye. Ah were there fer the death o’ tha Lich King an’ th’ discovery o’ the Draenei an’ fought in Quel’Danas.”
“Hold still, I’m going to unwrap your bandages. You clearly suffered a serious blow to the head if you think every great moment in modern history somehow had you at the center. You’re not Varian Wrynn, after all.”
Ringo Flinthammer blinked his eyes, wincing painfully at the dim torchlight.
“There’s a bear outside that will be happy to see you awake. He almost tore our heads off when we first brought you in, until a Druid of the Claw was able to explain we were trying to help you.”
“Smells like salt, like th’ sea. Where am Ah?”
“Safe as can be,” Doctor Gustaf VanHowzen smiled. “You’re in Theramore.”