He sat up abruptly, and black spots clouded his vision. His legs were tangled in a mess of blankets and the sheet was soaked with sweat. His breath came in huge, ragged gasps and his heart was pounding like he’d just been running for his life. The fiery wall and swirling harsh clouds of choking dust faded from his mind and the black spots faded from his vision, as his breathing began to steady, more effective at actually delivering oxygen to his starved brain. He raised a hand to his forehead and found his skin was covered with clammy, cold sweat. He was in his bunk. Not the War. Not Shadow.
-- SHADOW (07) Part (03) by ebfiddler