Mabry's eyes were wide as she stared at her sister. "You . . ." There was almost no sound to the word.

Her fingers were numb, but she tried to clutch at her sister.

Clinging to consciousness was difficult, for while she had tried to hide it, she had not been well for some time. Mabry did not brag when she claimed to be the second most powerful healer known to the refugees, and the recent return of illness had struck her harder than she had shown. It was ironic that her inability to breathe kept her from healing an injury that on another she could have mended with only a few whispered words.