How could Donald be so foolish? This had to be singlehandedly the most irresponsible thing he had ever done and that was saying something, considering how his explosions of anger led to disasters when left unchecked. No one could fault Donald for being worried about Louie's wellbeing – they all were, but that did not give anyone permission to lose their head. Irrationality was bad at the best of times and it was made worse by tenfold now that there was a life being threatened. They could not permit this slipup to happen again.

Scrooge was fuming. His nephew had given him numerous causes to be angry with him in the past but none had made the magnate angrier than this blunder. In fact, the old Scotsman was so furious that he was having trouble concentrating on the task of finding the rune that would bring forth the sought-after cure. Knowing that he wouldn't get any work done while he was this agitated, Scrooge took a calming breath and allowed his gaze to travel around the chamber.

There was Della, pointedly ignoring her brother who was trying to earn her forgiveness. Dewey and Webby were covering one section of the chamber together, carefully marking each M rune with a red marker – Scrooge assumed they got those from Huey – so they wouldn't needlessly circle back to them. Huey was switching his attention between the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook and the runes, his head moving up and down so fast that his great-uncle was worried he might give himself a neck injury. And Louie…

Scrooge paused at the sight of his youngest grandnephew. Louie was huddled in a corner, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head. Arms crossed and knees drawn up to his chest, the shivers the poor boy was experiencing were visible even from where the magnate was standing. The realisation hit Scrooge like a ton of bricks and he made his way to Louie. He sat next to his grandnephew and pulled him into his arms. Louie didn't fight it: he nestled into his great-uncle's chest, desperately seeking warmth. His hands were like ice; the magnate could feel the cold through his jacket.

"That wasn't a placebo your Uncle Donald gave you, was it?" Scrooge asked softly, rubbing Louie's arm in an attempt to produce heat.

Louie shook his head. "N-No," he replied, teeth chattering. "I-I think that stuff has shortened the time we have to find the a-antidote."

"How do you know?"

"Because H-Huey said the chills weren't suppose t-to arrive for another few h-hours…"

Curse me kilts, Scrooge thought, alarmed. "How bad are the chills?" he said aloud.

"You know that type of c-cold that goes deep into your b-bones?" Louie asked. "T-That's how bad they are."

"Then I'm not going anywhere. We'll stay like this until they pass," Scrooge told him. "It won't help much but a little heat is better than none."

Louie nodded and closed his eyes. The magnate raised his own and spotted the backpacks they had brought lying on the floor.

"Della, can you dig through the backpacks and see if there's anything than can help warm Louie up?" Scrooge called out.

"Warm him up? What's going on, Uncle Scrooge?" Della asked as she came closer.

"The second symptom has kicked in. Deep chills," Scrooge informed her. "That liquid Louie drank has accelerated the effects of the poison."

"What?" Della squawked. "I'm going to kill Donald!"

"Do that later; Louie's the one who needs attention right now," Scrooge told her firmly. "Go see if there's anything in those backpacks that could help ease the current symptom."

His niece hurried towards the bags. She came back minutes later carrying a blanket.

"This is all I could find," Della said.

"W-Why do we have a-a blanket?" Louie asked. Scrooge looked down and saw that his grandnephew had opened his eyes.

"I haven't the faintest idea but we'll take it," the magnate replied. "Wrap it around us both, lass. That way my body heat and what little Louie has left of his will be contained."

Della did as instructed. Scrooge pulled Louie as close to him as he could, whispering words of reassurance to him as Della watched on. A few minutes pass and while they do not disappear, the shivers lessened. Scrooge felt Louie relax a little.

"Thank you…" his grandnephew said.

"You're welcome, lad. Why don't you try to get some rest so you have the energy to face what's coming?" Scrooge said gently.

He received a nod in response. Louie closed his eyes once more and dozed off moments later. Scrooge looked at Della.

"I hate seeing him like this," she said sadly. "Why did it have to be one of my boys who ended up poisoned? It should have been me instead."

"Don't talk like that, lass. It won't do any good," Scrooge said. "What's done is done and we have to deal with it accordingly. Beating ourselves up won't bring Louie back to health."

"How can you remain so calm? I feel so helpless and here you are, finding ways to make him more comfortable. I don't understand how you're managing to keep a cool head."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you were inside my head."

Della stared at her uncle. "Huh?" she said, bemused.

"I'm barely holding on, Della. I can't bear the thought of losing one of the kids – I went through that with you once and I can't do it again," Scrooge said. Della hunched her shoulders in a guilty fashion. "The only reason I'm so calm on the outside is because I have years of experience when it comes to dealing with crises, and that experience has taught me that panic and despondency never helps. On top of that, Louie is frightened enough as it is: he doesn't need to see us being scared, too. We need to be strong for him."

Della stroked Louie's head. "How can I be strong when I could lose one of my sons?" she asked.

"You need to find the strength within you. I know you can do it, lass: you spent ten years stuck on the moon and it hasn't changed you one bit."

"That was different. You were all here on Earth, alive and well. That's what kept me going."

"And now what needs to keep you going is the determination to save your child's life. Don't give in to fear and hopelessness: it will only lead to heartache."

Della looked at Louie, who was still sleeping peacefully in his great-uncle's arms. "I'm the one who should be doing this. Holding him and making sure he's resting," she said, rubbing her arm. "I've just been so distracted by what's happened… You shouldn't have been forced to take my place."

"I'm not being forced to do anything. The children's welfare is my responsibility as much as it is yours and I'm happy to provide them with what they need. Besides, we need your keen eye to spot that elusive rune, lass. You've always been able to see what we miss, something Louie has inherited from you," Scrooge replied, offering Della a small smile.

That caused her to smile as well. "Really?" she asked.

"Really. We can always count on him to read any situation and see all the shortcuts and the possibilities, which is what you need to do at this very moment. Go on, rejoin the others. I'll watch over Louie while he's sleeping."

There was a small moment of hesitation on Della's part. "You're sure that's okay?"

"Of course, lass."

"All right. Thank you, Uncle Scrooge."

The magnate gave a nod. As Della walked off, his gaze dropped back down to Louie. His grandnephew cracked an eye open and Scrooge raised an eyebrow, a thought occurring to him.

"Were you actually asleep this whole time or were you just pretending?" the old Scotsman asked.

"Um… The first one?" Louie replied, trying to sound innocent. Scrooge was pleased to note that the teeth chattering had stopped.

"More like the second one," he said, unable to prevent himself from feeling somewhat amused. "I told you to get some rest."

"And I did, kind of. I wanted to hear what Mom had to say."

"You thought she wouldn't have spoken so openly if she thought you were awake?"

"I know she wouldn't have. Mom tries to hide her worries so we don't get scared; she thinks we don't know that, but we do. This is a bad situation and I wanted to hear what she really thought about it, that's all."

"You kids are really observant for your age. How did hearing her thoughts make you feel?"

"Awful," Louie admitted. "None of this would be happening if I hadn't stupidly triggered that trap."

"Don't you go down that road, too," Scrooge said. "This is no one's fault."

"But I touched the rune. It is my fault – I pulled a Louie again."

"A what?"

"Ask Webby. Only this time it was an accident."

"Exactly, lad. It was an accident: you didn't mean to get yourself poisoned. Like I told your mother, beating ourselves up will help no one. All we can do is keep our heads held high and find that cure."

Louie nodded. Scrooge tightened the blanket around them.

"How are those chills?" the magnate asked quietly.

"Still getting them," Louie replied. "But they're not as bad as earlier thanks to being wrapped up like a burrito."

"Good," Scrooge said, giving his grandnephew a light squeeze. "You really should get some sleep. For real, this time."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, Louie. You need to preserve and replenish your strength because those symptoms are just going to get harder. They will take a large toll on you."

"I would prefer it if we found the antidote before it gets to that point, if you don't mind," Louie retorted.

"We'll do our best. Now go to sleep," Scrooge told him with a note of finality in his tone.

"Fine," Louie said, making a face.

He snuggled deeper into the blanket and closed his eyes again. His great-uncle peered at him, waiting to see if there were any signs of his grandnephew faking sleep once more. But when Louie's breathing slowed, Scrooge knew that the boy had finally drifted off. He lifted his gaze and watched the rest of his family continue their search for the rune. The magnate hoped that this was the last symptom Louie had to endure: from what he had overheard Huey recite from the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook earlier, what was coming next was going to make the fever and the chills feel like nothing in comparison. That blasted rune had to be somewhere in this chamber – but where?