Sick
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The rain lasted longer than Alistar would've liked it to. And, as it went on, he began to see his breath drawing white clouds out in front of him. This island was naturally humid; because the rainwater was cold he saw those clouds; their water weighing down on his robes. The cold moist air had started to bother with his breathing. He began to cough softly, at first; not to bother Meridith. But they became louder. A loud, sticky cough. He lay down, where wet sand and topsoil met rainwater.

She was crying already. For the life of him, he didn't know why the habit had set in. Maybe he'd been too soft. He saw the pendant her mother had given her. Herieth had once worn it herself, and he thought, that she had been right. Meridith shouldn't have been left in his care.

She knew her father as well as she knew any stranger.

"Merry, come now. Help me up. I've gotten enough mana now..cough... to build us a shelter."

They made their way beneath tree limbs, the canopy was tight in areas, and sparse in places that let in light, and for today, rainwater. Diverse plant life took this island as home and had thoroughly subjugated it. He leaned on Meredith while keeping his coughs to a minimum, he was little more than skin and bones. If he did let them go, as they might, they would shake her, because he wasn't enough to hold them.

They stopped beside an incline. Palm leafs hovered over the edge, successfully shading a source of flowing water. 

The short walk had taken his breath. He wished to himself that he would have brought some potions, and remembered, after a short moment, that the storm would've taken those as well. He was just happy that he and his daughter had made it.

He coughed. "Meridith, I don't know what it is, but something has taken a hold of me. I've felt the effects of mana depletion before."

"You're pale," she reached a hand beneath his chin, and felt his throat, "and warm, too."

"Yes." He waved his sleeve. It was to seem grandiose, usually, but his hand rose so slowly that it would provoke a sense of pity instead.  A rock hut, the size of a single tent, formed.

"I'll help." She chanted with both hands before her bust. Stone beds were then transformed into fluffy, thin mattresses.

"Oh, transfiguration, Merry? When since?"

She chuckled.

"I'm my father's child."
     

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