Phoebe

The lights in the medical centre stung Phoebe's eyes. Her head was pounding. She'd tried to lift her arm to rest it across her face, but the stiffness in her shoulders and neck was too much, she'd barely been able to get her elbow upright. Screwing her eyes tight shut made the headache worse, but if she only closed them lightly, they were too pink to offer much relief from the light.

It was the sort of situation that always felt like it lasted a long time. Phoebe hadn't spotted a clock yet in the brief moments she'd been able to open her eyes, but she had to keep telling herself it probably hadn't been all that long. The doctors had asked her some questions, encouraged her to move her limbs if she could, how long had that taken?

Voices approached, Petunia's immediately recognisable as she came through the door: "-Platt, the team manager."

"Where's your team doctor?" One of the medics, sounding as if Petunia had hit him like a truck. She was having that effect on more and more people around the stables these days.

"We don't have one yet, I'm afraid." Phoebe could hear Petunia not even turning to the medic as she said that. "How is she?"

"I won't be able to release her unless it's into the care of a qualified doctor," the medic responded, voice quavering. "I'm sorry, that's a legal requirement. Um, she's badly shaken, probably moderate to severe whiplash, for now she needs flat rest."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Phoebe grunted and lifted her arm. She couldn't turn her neck enough to point her face toward Petunia's voice, but on the third attempt, she managed to mumble, "Soot?"

Delicate fingers caught her own. "He's on the ground in the stadium, he didn't come back to the stable. Adelie and Stefan are with him."

A groan escaped Phoebe. There'd be a fine for improper handling on top of the penalty at the next race for inadequate fall safety for the dragon's behaviour. She couldn't blame Soot, but it was the last thing the team needed. Reflexively, she tried to sit up, and instantly regretted it, the droning ache of her spine rising sharply to a burn.

As her weight settled back into the mattress, she managed, "Race?"

"Royal Hermeia are one and two, Lyonne is third. They should just be starting lap twelve. How are you feeling?"

Phoebe clenched her face painfully and managed to pull two brain cells into reasonable proximity. "Like one of those springy doorstops with a cat twanging it."

She smiled weakly at the sound of Petunia's gentle giggle. The Team Manager said, "I don't think they're going to let you out soon, can I bring you anything?"

"Blindfold?"

"Oh, you mean like a sleep mask?" Phoebe could picture the way Petunia would be tilting her head, half-puzzled.

"Would it help to have the lights down? We can do that." The medic cut in, and the lights dimmed from white to a gentle off-yellow even before Phoebe could confirm. Then his voice shifted back to speaking-to-the-team-manager tone. "We checked her for concussion and there aren't any significant symptoms, there's no sign she hit her head on the way down. The pain is all whiplash, and we'd like to transfer her to a hospital on the mainland for a spinal exam." Back to Phoebe, "That means it's safe for you to sleep, if you can. Try not to move for now and we'll get a physio to help you get up again in a few hours. Are the lights ok?"

Phoebe managed to get her hand upright again. As long as she didn't move above the elbow it wasn't too bad. "Lower." The lighting dropped to a dull brown, and there were the quiet sounds of people leaving the room.