Lion Head Mesa sometimes (dead is better)

Melody? That was a pretty name.
The veiled light of the corridor illuminated a little of the woman's striated fur, adding a sunny lustre which Nazli found quite appealing. She looked like the time before the dawn, just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon; dark, and warm.
The girl shook her head. I don't, she croaked, and then coughed lightly, and moved to reach for the food and water left beside her bed — and seemed winded by doing so, thus unsuccessful.
A pleading glance spared to Melody; then, sighing:
Are you — nebet? She must have been! Look at her!