Swiftcurrent Creek bleak

He laid on his side.

Eyes staring out, watching the grey clouds roll above. He tried to swallow--it felt like knives. A groan given--the fever had passed, but he hadn't recovered. Sickness clung to him still.

He could still see her haunting eyes.

His own shut with the memory. Already her voice was fading again.

The mind was a fickle creature.