Chapter 226 - 227: You hid a fever?

Chapter 226: Chapter 227: You hid a fever?

Nahla had already done the same.

Tilla came carrying a basin of steaming water with ash soap dissolved inside.

Sari walked beside her with bundles of clean cloth.

Nobody looked glamorous.

They looked frightened and busy.

Swanly preferred busy.

Busy meant nobody had surrendered yet.

"Nobody enters the sick shelter bare-handed," Swanly said.

Nahla snorted.

"I was healing people before your mother’s mother learned to crawl."

"And now you have cloth around your hands."

Nahla looked at her wrapped hands.

Then Swanly.

"Annoying fox."

Tilla laughed.

"She’s right."

Nahla pointed at her.

"Do not encourage her."

Swanly smiled despite herself.

They had begun making simple protections out of whatever Ironwood had.

Boiled cloth over mouths and noses.

Thick hide wrapped around hands when blood was present.

Separate wooden bowls carved with marks so nobody accidentally used a sick person’s cup.

Stone basins outside every temporary sick shelter.

Hot water.

Ash soap.

Dirty cloth boiled separately.

Blood-soaked cloth that could not be properly cleaned went into the fire.

Sleeping hides were separated.

Nobody shared eating utensils.

It was primitive.

It was imperfect.

But Swanly had lived through one apocalypse already.

She had learned the hard way that imperfect precautions were better than panic.

Every time she left a patient, the System scanned her.

"Clear."

Again.

"Clear."

Again.

"Still clear."

Swanly washed her hands anyway.

Tilla noticed.

"You always wash twice."

"Sometimes three times."

"Why?"

Swanly looked at her.

"Because fear makes people lazy in stupid ways. I’d rather be annoyingly clean than dead."

Tilla considered.

Then washed hers again.

"Move."

Swanly looked over.

Tilla shoved her hip gently.

"You’re blocking the basin."

Something warm moved through Swanly’s chest.

Tilla was frightened too.

She had Tavi to worry about.

But she was still here.

Helping.

Swanly bumped her shoulder back.

"Bossy."

"You started it."

Nahla looked between them.

"Children."

Sari, who rarely joked, quietly said:

"Swanly has five. She is technically experienced."

Nahla stared at her.

Tilla burst out laughing.

Even Swanly did.

It lasted seconds.

A scream came from inside.

They ran.

A male had pulled his cloth away from his ribs.

Dark veins had appeared around an old claw scar.

His mate saw them.

She screamed.

"ROT!"

The entire shelter erupted.

People tried to get up.

One female tripped over a hide.

A child began crying.

The sick male stared down at himself.

"No."

His breathing turned frantic.

"No, no, I wasn’t bitten!"

Nahla shoved everyone back.

"STOP MOVING!"

Swanly dropped beside him.

"System."

Scan.

Negative.

"Again."

Negative.

The dark veins crawled another finger-width around the scar.

The male started sobbing.

"Kill me before I turn."

His mate grabbed his face.

"No!"

"If I turn..."

"You won’t!"

"You don’t know!"

Swanly caught his wrist.

"Look at me."

He was shaking.

"Look at me!"

He did.

"This is not showing as Rot."

"But the veins..."

"I see them."

"Then what is it?"

Swanly hated the answer.

"I don’t know yet."

He almost broke.

Swanly tightened her grip.

"But we are not killing you because we are scared."

His mate covered her mouth and cried.

Nahla immediately began checking temperature and pulse.

Sari ground cooling herbs.

Tilla fetched fresh water.

Nobody stood uselessly around Swanly waiting for the heroine to perform a miracle.

Good.

Because Swanly did not have one.

Soren created three more isolation shelters before sunset.

Not prison huts.

Separated treatment spaces.

Families could speak through woven reed partitions.

Partners could remain nearby as long as they followed Nahla’s rules.

Swanly helped organize them.

Sari ran the herb records.

Nahla controlled treatment.

Tilla began keeping a list of which family needed food so sick people did not have to leave their shelters.

Swanly looked at her.

"When did you start doing that?"

Tilla shrugged.

"You were writing everything down."

"So?"

"So I copied you."

Swanly stared.

Tilla’s ears lowered.

"Is it wrong?"

"No."

Swanly touched her arm.

"It’s very right."

Tilla smiled.

Small.

Proud.

Then the fear began causing problems.

A male hid his fever.

His mate helped him.

They wrapped him in wet hides and told everyone he was sleeping.

They were discovered only after he collapsed while trying to reach the water pots.

Nahla nearly skinned both of them alive with words.

"You hid a fever?"

The mate cried.

"They would separate us!"

"I would separate you temporarily, not throw him into the forest!"

"I was afraid!"

"So is everyone!"

Nahla’s voice cracked through the shelter.

"That does not mean you get to make decisions that may kill ten other families!"

The female lowered her head and sobbed.

Swanly watched.

Fear.

That was becoming the second disease.

Then a mother hid her daughter’s headaches.

Another family lied about a sleepwalking episode.

Every lie made the next person more afraid.

And through all of it, the twins were watching.

Swanly carried Eira one afternoon while Tilla carried Sira.

They passed a female preparing root paste outside a shelter.

Healthy.

Laughing with Sari.

Eira suddenly stiffened.

Her silver eyes fixed on the woman.

"Bad."

Swanly stopped.

The female laughed nervously.

"What?"

Eira pointed.

"Bad."

The woman looked offended.

"I didn’t do anything."

Swanly adjusted Eira.

"Baby, what is bad?"

Eira pointed again.

The woman.

"Bad."

Sira stopped playing with Tilla’s hair.

Her smile faded.

That made Swanly much more nervous.

The female touched her own chest.

"I feel fine."

Nahla came over.

"No fever."

The female spread both arms.

"See?"

Swanly watched Eira.

Eira tucked herself against Swanly.

"Bad."

Three hours later, the woman collapsed.

Fever.

Violent headache.

Old scar burning along her back.

When word spread, something changed.

People began looking at Eira differently.

Then Sira.

Not cruelly.

Not yet.

But nervously.

A mother pulled her son aside when Eira crawled past.

Swanly saw it.

Her fox ears flattened.

Tilla saw it too.

She immediately sat beside Eira and offered her a carved toy.

"Come here, little terror."

Eira looked at her.

Tilla whispered loudly:

"I’m not scared of you."

Eira took the toy.

Tilla looked toward the watching mother.

Neither woman said anything.

But Swanly understood.

Thank you.

Tilla shrugged as if to say, obviously.

Then Vida screamed.

Swanly knew Vida.

Young.

Soft-faced.

Always helping near the nursing shelter because she had more milk than her baby needed and sometimes fed cubs whose mothers were ill or recovering.

Swanly had spoken to her dozens of times.

Never properly.

Now Vida came running out of the nursing shelter with her baby in her arms.

"NAHLA!"