I awoke tired, ate,
and tried to do my chores. Ma checked on my partway through the
morning, felt my forehead, and sent me back to bed.
The wound became a
turgid, red spot. I tried to keep my hand away from it, but it itched
and heated up. The heat spread until it lay heavily over my entire
body. It became difficult to even breath.
I slipped into a
sticky, restless drowsing, and soon opened my eyes halfway to waking
before slipping under again. Day and night became a blur. Regardless
of the time, the only constant was the oppressive heat. Pungent
poultices appeared on my chest and brow. Someone propped me up to sip
some water that I could barely swallow.
Between being
half-waking and half-sleeping, I saw things that could only be
dreams. Massive cities full of strangely smooth towers of white stone
and unnaturally smooth ice. There was a cacophony of people who I didn't recognize and a
crowd of alien noise against a riot of color. There were even faint scents
and flavors that I could almost grasp as if they were faded memories.
I let the impressions wash over me; they distracted me from the fever
and pain.
I probably spoke,
but I could not recall the words the moment I spoke them. My family
and the neighbors appeared before me as did a white robed priestess.
Days must have
passed, when I awoke one cool morning. The oppressive heat had
finally passed. I sat up in daze. Tertius was the first to see me. He
ran out of the room excitedly calling for Ma and Dad.
Ma clung to me
tearfully, while Dad asked me how I was. When I opened my mouth to
answer, I could not find any words. My head felt stuffed so full,
that I could not reach the words. I tried to speak several times,
then closed my mouth and shook my head. Dad turned pale as he grasped
my head to look me in the eyes.
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