Iris Harris lay in bed, opening her eyes to see that it was already light outside.
The room was very quiet, the only sound was her feverish breathing.
Rain was still falling, pattering against the glass with a crisp sound.
The air was filled with humid moisture, along with the heat emitted by her own high fever.
She had a fever.
Her health had never been great, not to mention the way Brandan had tormented her last night.
Getting sick was only natural.
She lay in bed groggy and half-awake when she heard the door slightly open, someone walking in slowly, a cold hand lifted to probe her burning forehead, then hurried out, soon returning with a warm wet towel, gently wiping the cold sweat from her face, also using a cotton swab to moisten her cracked, burning lips.
