Warsworn

to be held, listening to the rapid beat of his heart.
    Eventually, Keir eased me back, supporting my head and neck, and a cup of cool water was placed at my lips. I swallowed gratefully. It was replaced by a bowl, and I recognized the scent of the broth that Marcus makes so well. I managed a few sips, to the delight of someone. Then someone put a dose of fever's foe in my mouth and I crinkled my nose, recognizing the taste as it flooded my throat. I heard Marcus snort. "Don't like the taste of your own, eh?" Keir chuckled, and I pulled my eyes open again to focus on him. He still looked tired, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were back. I took a deep breath, and then made a face. He leaned in, "What is it, Lara?"
    I had to take a deep breath to get the words out in a croak. "You stink." The laugh burst from him, his entire body shaking, and he pulled me in, holding me tight to his chest. "Ah, my Lara." He lowered me down to the bedding, eyes bright with what looked like tears. "I suppose I do, at that."
    "She'll sleep now." Marcus growled. "Gils and I will watch over her. You need to care for yourself. I'll have food ready when you're done."
    Keir made as if to protest, but I frowned at him. He sat back with a sigh. "Fair enough." He reached over and stroked my cheek with his hand. I closed my eyes at his touch, and fell back into sleep between one breath and the next.
    The fever had broken, but the lethargy held me in its grasp. I lay in the tent for the next day, with barely the energy to draw breath.
    Gils kept forcing liquids into me, regularly appearing with a cup of sweet, cold water, or a bowl of Marcus's broth. At first I was eager, since I was wrung dry by the fever. But after a while, it was an effort to drink and swallow, more exhaustion than inability. Keir was beside me constantly, bracing my head, encouraging me to drink. I slept more often than not, awakening to a cup or a bowl.
    As my exhaustion continued everyone's faces grew grim. They were worried, and had I the strength, I'd have been as well. But with each passing moment, the life seemed to fade from my body, bit by bit after the last bout of fever.
    "Out."
    I opened my eyes to find Marcus shooing Keir and Is-dra from the tent. Keir made as if to protest, but Marcus cut him off. "She'll feel better for a bath. The young'un is all the help I need, and none of your prying eyes."
    "We'll help." Keir frowned.
    "No such thing," Marcus insisted. "Go out and do something useful."
    "What?"
    Marcus threw up his hands. "Chop wood. Carry water. Sharpen your sword. Anything to get you out from underfoot."
    Keir made a growling noise, but he and Isdra cleared out of the tent. Marcus and Gils fussed for a bit, with Gils going to fetch a bucket of warm water. I appreciated his efforts to honor my
    'shyness', although I wasn't sure there was a point to it anymore. Everyone had seen me in all my glory at some point. But I couldn't even muster the energy to be embarrassed. Marcus moved to the side of the bed, and pulled back the bedding. "We'll wash your hair, Lara. You will feel better, yes?"
    The idea had appeal, but I'd no energy to contribute to the effort. I sighed as Marcus helped me roll closer to the side of the bed. He must have heard me, since he made the same kind of soothing sound that I'd heard Isdra use on the babe. I smiled weakly, even as he beat a gentle rhythm on my back, just as Isdra had done.
    I coughed.
    Pain gripped my chest, and I went into a spasm of coughing, a horrible deep racking sound. It left me gasping, hanging over the edge of the bed, trying to clear my throat. Marcus was holding me, calling frantically for Keir and Gils. I stared at the mess I'd made, and gasped for air, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
    Keir and Gils came running in, demanding an explanation. Marcus sputtered an apology, even as he tried to push me onto my back. But I resisted, sure that I knew what was happening. The fluids were in my chest. Building slowly, instead of sweating out, drowning me. The exhaustion had masked it, but Marcus had…
    "Again. Do that again." My voice wasn't more than a rasp, but it cut through the babble about me. Keir had his arms about me, and Marcus was pale as a cloud.
    "What did you do?" Keir asked sharply.
    "I drummed her. I thought to offer comfort…"
    "Again." I struggled in Keir's arms. "Do it again."
    "It hurts you," Marcus objected.
    "Have to…" I coughed again.
    Gils knelt by the bed. "She's