Whitewater Gorge XXXII

The sustained travel, as well as whatever bug it was that ran through the group, was starting to take its toll on Lilia. She felt less and less interested in hunting down the white woman, now that she felt the shivers of fever creeping through her veins and into her bones. 

She was hungry and she was tired. She felt moody and if it hadn’t been for her packmates being so refrained, she likely would have begun complaining. But she would’ve been the only one. She wanted to vent, and go back to her home.

Maybe she wanted to go back and see what it was about that Dreadfather man that made her stomach burn. But that would make her a traitor…And princesses weren’t traitors.

She sneezed a few times and grumbled to herself. What kind of shape would the group be in if they even found the murderer when they were all sick?