Sleepy Fox Hollow Took this dagger in me and removed it

eager to explore the lay of the land, and with so little time to do so, phaedra was glad to accompany her father on betaking himself to the hollow. and though it was no great shakes as far as idylls went (she was spoiled for life by the mountain at their backs, now) she could see how this trip was as much for mahler as it was for her, and it seemed to hearten him to impart his history with the demesne revered in his heart. she could not, then, find it within herself to range far from his side. if not only to prolong the adventure.

presently she opened her mouth to make a pertinent remark, when the graf swung away from her and trooped in some purposeful direction she at once saw no reason for. the girl furrowed her brow and rambled after him half-heartedly, asking “where are you going?” when the easeful air all of a sudden tasted sharp. 

instinct would have stayed her, if not for the distinct smell of her mother seethed to the fore of febrile sicknotes. her breath snagged in her throat and refused to leave her chest. "is that—?”  

it is. she could not help the anxious whistle from her throat, nor the leaping way her legs carried her over the distance furling between herself and her ague ridden mother. she did not have the better sense to check that impulse, to hang back and let the healer appreciate the full measure of her malady before permitting his daughter near.  

“mama!” she cried, falling end over end at wylla’s feet. only then did she look up amid the whirl of feeling and notice the angry furrows in her shoulder, face paling.