Keenan was sore and tired. He’d made it through the business. He could go back to the camp now, but… he wasn’t sure he should. He wasn’t well. He knew, without having to ask anyone, that he was pale. He felt cold – like he couldn’t get warm. He chewed his lip thoughtfully. What should he do?

He shook his head and peered out into the antechamber. “Marken,” he said, his voice weak. “Get Phillip.” He felt his aura flare and flinched in pain. He didn’t listen for Marken’s answer. He simply went back to his couch and laid down.


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