𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑺 𝑪𝑨𝑴𝑬 𝑨𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑫 slow, eyes like lead and with her back resting on something something stuffy, damp and cold. She felt a cold cloth press onto her clammy forehead. It took a moment for her eyes to open fully, gaze meeting the twigs and branches bound together as a ceiling, gold sunlight dripping in through the gaps like diluted paint. She tilted her head an inch to the side, and saw Jeff with his hands busy on the side cabinet, stirring broken ice into a glass of water.
The sight of it seemed to wake her up. The raw pain of her throat burned up through her lips and she choked on air, shoving her elbows into the mattress as she sat up. Jeff started, catching the tepid cloth as it slipped from her forehead.
"Woah, Emis. Hold on." He pushed the cloth into the glass, and she felt her heart sink. Though she knew she would've downed it even with the grubby towel hanging over the side, she was that thirsty. "You feeling better?"
In all honesty, she felt terrible. But to rid Jeff of his worry, she nodded. "You'll want something to drink. I'll go get Chuck. Wait here." He set the glass down, handed her the cloth, "Put that on your forehead," and left.
She breathed out, pushing the blanket off and swinging her legs round so that she sat facing the door. She shoved a hand through her hair and stuffed her feet into her boots, hands fumbling as she tied the laces into stiff knots. The cloth on her forehead was nice. The pound in her head wasn't.
She straightened up, wiping her hands on her trousers. Eyes skating dangerously over the fogged glass with water dripping down its sides and ice settling at the bottom. Don't be an idiot, Emis. You can't drink that — it's disgusting. She sighed, and tore her gaze away, tossing the cloth onto the table and tucking her hair behind her ears.
"Hey, Emis." It was Chuck, hesitant in the doorway. "You woke up."
She nodded, the ache in her throat too sore for her to speak. "Jeff said you wanted a drink, right? C'mon."
He led her out of the Infirmary, feet scuffing up the sand and kicking up the dried dirt as he wound through the Village. Unfamiliar, she knocked against hammocks and tripped over odd pairs of shoes.
The kitchen was deserted when they arrived. Chuck dug around for a tin, loosening the faucet with a scrape and letting water drain into the cup. He handed it to Emis, water spilling down the sides and splashing onto the floor. She ignored it, brought the cup to her lips without a second thought.
