Alathorn smiled and nodded. "I will certainly ask if I need anything," he said, smiling. After that, he closed his eyes and let himself slip into sleep. He didn't dream while he slept but he woke a while later with sweat covering his body. It was obvious that he'd had a fever and it had broken in his sleep. He yawned and was tempted to stretch but felt the need to, instead, check that his body was working.<br/><br/>His left arm was healing nicely, he could feel, and he nodded in relief. His hand had regained some of it's strength, though the grip was still weakened. He knew it would be a problem if he couldn't carry a shield or another sword with that hand. He would have to rely solely on his right for both defense and offense, but he knew his hand would regain it's former strength once his arm was healed. His right leg, however, was a different matter. Though it had begun to heal, he could feel that one of the bones wasn't healing completely correct. He could feel, though, that the bone hadn't fully started to heal yet so he gritted his teeth, took a deep breath and used his hand to set it back into the exact right place, merely wincing at the pain where a stronger man would have cried out.<br/><br/>Once he had completely finished that he sighed, relaxing as he laid himself back onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling.