Chapter 60: The Silver Fever
Peace was a fragile thing.
Two days after the run, the lodge was quiet. The reconstruction crews were asleep. The snow fell softly outside, blanketing the scars of the war.
I was in our room, pacing.
Lyra wouldn't settle.
She wasn't crying—that would have been normal. She was whimpering, a high-pitched, vibrating sound that set my teeth on edge.
I checked her diaper. I offered her milk. I rocked her. Nothing worked.
And she was hot.
"Mara!" I called out, panic rising in my throat.
The Elder hurried in, her gray hair braided for sleep. "Luna? What is it?"
"She's burning up," I said, bringing Lyra to the candlelight. "Feel her."
Mara placed a weathered hand on the baby’s forehead. She hissed and pulled back.
"She is hot," Mara agreed. "But this isn't
