Neera panted as the cloth was stuffed in her mouth.
Her breathing was ragged, her skin damp with sweat as fever raged through her.
The world around her blurred in and out of focus, shifting like shadows beneath the dim torchlight flickering against the walls of the carriage.
"Are you alright now? You had a nightmare," a mature woman asked. She was a dwarf, her short stature and wrinkled face betraying the years she had lived.
It surprised Neera; she had thought all the girls in the carriage were young, but this woman carried an air of wisdom that set her apart.
Neera nodded weakly. The dwarf placed a warm palm against her forehead, her expression grim. "You have a terrible fever. With how high your temperature is, I'm afraid you might die," she said solemnly.
Her touch was gentle, as though trying to soothe away Neera's pain with nothing more than a simple caress.
