Chapter 246: The Fever From the Rainstorm
Orion's curse tore out of him before his mind caught up. The heat from Sophia's brow was a furnace against his palm; when he brushed a hand across her forehead the damp fabric clung, and the scent of rain — cold, sharp, iron — hit him.
"Damn it," he spat, the word half anger, half helplessness.
Marta had been faster than he'd expected. She moved with the blunt, practical confidence that had saved lives long before his name ever mattered in the pack. "Get her to a vacant bed," she ordered without preamble, already sliding aside the crusted blankets and clearing space. Her voice had no room for theatrics. "Change her out of those wet clothes. Something dry. Now."
Orion answered with motion rather than words. He lifted Sophia and felt her small weight in his arms. He set her gently on the bed and picked up one of the dry tunics he had asked the other healers to provide.
