Goose Feathers in the Jin Era

A bone-chilling cold seeped up from the pile of straw beneath her, mixed with the smell of mildew and blood. She choked and began coughing. There was no familiar office tower with its floor-to-ceiling windows, nor the soft bed in her apartment. Instead, there were low earthen walls and a hole in the roof through which she could see the gray sky. A few crows perched on the wall, cawing hoarsely like rusty metal scraping together. “You’re awake?” a rough male voice said nearby. Kuang Da'e turned her head and saw a man in battered leather armor holding half a darkened wheat cake. He was looking her over with murky eyes. He seemed to be about thirty, and a scar ran from his brow to his jaw. It twisted whenever he spoke, making him look somewhat menacing. “Where am I?” she asked. Her voice was dry, like sandpaper rubbed against wood, and nothing like her usual clear, bright voice.