Evie Mistweaver's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Evie was halfway down the ridge when she heard the coughing. It came from the direction of the sanctuary, rough and wet, followed by a sound like someone trying to stand and failing. She stopped and turned back. The shelter was still visible through the trees, its thatch roof dark against the sky. She found him collapsed beside the spring, one hand still reaching toward the water. His skin was gray, his breathing shallow. When she touched his shoulder, he didn't open his eyes. She grabbed the nearest cup and filled it, but when she tried to lift his head, he couldn't swallow. The water ran down his chin and soaked into the dirt. She dragged him to the padded bench she'd placed under the shade cloth near the pool. His weight was wrong, too light, like he'd been walking without food for days. She propped him against the backrest and tilted the cup again, but his mouth wouldn't close around the rim. The water spilled. She set the cup down and pulled out the hollow reed she'd tucked into her pack weeks ago, the one she'd been carrying without knowing why. She twisted it into a long spiral, dipped one end into the cup, and held the other to his lips. This time, when the water touched his tongue, his throat moved. He swallowed. She stayed until the cup was empty and his breathing steadied. He still hadn't opened his eyes, but his hand moved to rest on his chest instead of clawing at the ground. She refilled the cup and left it beside him with the reed coiled on top. When she stood to leave, she didn't look back. Someone had needed the sanctuary to work, and it had. That was enough, and it was terrifying.