Forty-eight:
Catesby
I hadn’t had to walk to the witches camp the last time. I’d had magic to help me. Now, I was in the cold, with a struggling Crimson walking behind me. The magic she had from Zaan seemed to be helping with her cough. However, it didn’t stop me from looking over at her every five seconds to make sure that she was okay.
“Are you alright?” I asked as we stumbled through the snow.
Crimson’s skin was pale, and in the kind of way that made her look like she was going to be sick despite the magic that was flowing through her veins. “I’m fine,” she said, but I could tell that she was lying. She was cold, and miserable, and it looked like she was fighting off Devil’s Lung again.
“Maybe I should carry you,” I suggested.
