Two Rivers Isle in sickness & in health

for Magpie de l'encrier

Everything was bleary, fogged over by a blankness like the world was but white and green. He tracked a shade in the corner of his eye, a division between two shades that waxed and waned. It almost felt like his shivering was matching pace with his heart, both languid things that sought not to leave him unmoved. He wasn't sure he felt cold, awash instead with the persistent twinge of his turmoils.

He didn't lift his head as the shape grew nearer, just lying in wait with labored breaths. He felt drier than before, Cormorant noted belatedly, no snow stained his legs bitterly damp. He was lying in soil and roots - he couldn't really tell if it was a den or some hollowed end of a trunk - he didn't really care.

His shoulders shook, a motion that chased up and down his spine, wringing a mournful whine out of him. He was still exhausted, all he wanted was sleep, but the sensations of his blood pulsing through tender patches and the creaking of his own breath refused to let him slip.