A soft voice beckons me from my leafy grave. I shake the bark that has sealed my eyes closed loose and follow the sound. I follow it through the woods... I climb steep hills. Small brooks cross my path. The water is soft against my legs. I look at them, unable to comprehend that these are my legs, my hands. I have been estranged from my body too long. The sensations in my skin are as odd as the feel of the damp wood that surrounds me. The voice is always just ahead. I grow weary and long for the. For three days and three nights, Rosalie labored without sleep. She worked with a feverish urgency, as though her own life was at risk. She exhausted the herb reserves she knew around the forest and fought Raener’s fever with an unbending spirit. But above all, she admired his strength; his gaze was unfocused and he barely had the strength to speak, but he always had this stubborn frown on his brows. He refused to die. And on the fourth day, did the fever finally break. Color returned to. More

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