We have been spending most of our time together, ditching school constantly as we always do the week before reaping. We spend a ridiculous amount of time watching the night, safe in our embrace, hidden in the reeds, and it shows. During daylight hours, we are exhausted by our late night treks. We sprint to arrive to our hideout, and drag our feet slowly to leave for home.
When only two nights are left in our dreaded countdown, Aeris and I come equipped with sleeping bags. By unspoken agreement, we stay out for the night.
I take a lot of time to fall asleep.
When I do, it's not for long. I wake to find Aeris clawing frantically at the covers.
"Aeris?" I ask sleepily. In response, she stumbles away a meter or so and falls to the ground. I hear a retching sound, and I scramble after her.
"Aeris!" I am fully awake now, aware that something isn't right. Aeris moans and clutches her stomach. I half-carry, half-drag her backwards, where the moonlight is stronger. Her front and chin is covered in a dark color that I instantly know to be red.
Bright, scarlet red.
Instantly, I scoop her up, cradling her head, and I flee our sleeping bags. Aeris is vomiting blood, and people who vomit blood need to see doctors. Therefore, I need a healer. Aeris' aunt can help, I believe.
I am panting heavily by the time we reach town, not used to the extra weight. Aeris no longer moans quite as often, but I don't consider this a good sign.
I scramble up the porch, fervently hoping Aunt Fyrvis is not on her rounds to the sick. I turn and slam my shoulder against the door, intending to open it. Ow. It seems Aunt Fyrvis locks her door, unlike my family. It doesn't take long for lights to turn on, and she comes running. Again unlike my family, she asks no questions when she sees Aeris, bloody and in my arms in the middle of the night.
It is not until she has laid Aeris on a quilt, and has examined her that she turns to face me. Her eyes travel to the three small children peering at the still body on the quilt from behind the doorway. "Go" she says to them. They obediently scamper off to their bedrooms.
Then, Aunt Fyrvis says one of the worst things you can possibly hear nowadays.
"Boilfever"