Katherine's breathing rhythm did not simmer since the first glimpse Silas had gotten of her the previous morning.
Her eyes were on the canopy, bloodshot and tired as the rest of her muscles lay inert on the bed.
"Can she be fed?" he asked, glaring down at her figure.
"We've tried," the doctor that stood by her replied, "It hasn't yielded any changes,"
"Is there anything you can tell me at all about her condition?"
"I am afraid not," the doctor shook his head, "I can neither confirm nor deny the theory you've suggested. She may or may not have been infected or poisoned, but there is no trace of any toxin in her system,"
"What of witchcraft?"
"That remains possible," the white coated man picked a stack of papers in hand, "Although impossible to confirm or deny as well,"
Silas took those words and exited the room with a heavy heart. Even the air didn't come easy. Katherine's case proved to be a difficult mystery. One no one managed to unwrap.
