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"I'm going to take you to the top, kid. It's not going to
end like this, not without a fight. No, not without an answer.
By my dead brother, I swear you'll get to ask your
question."
He turned over and tried to go to sleep, but it wasn't
until morning that exhaustion closed those eyes that were
very tired of looking at the world.
*****
The morning broke, warm and sunny. A few clouds
drifted through the sky, but gave no threat of any type of
storm. Snow gathered on tree limbs, slipped heavily from
leaves, as the warmth of the day melted it. Pine needles
shrugged off sheets of snow and rustled as they adjusted to
their newfound freedom from winter's blanket.
Marakion stood at the cave's entrance. Nature was
adapting to the freak warmth of the winter's day. The snow
on the ground was glazed with a sheen of wet sparkles.
Everything was adapting - everything except Gylar.
The sickness moved fast once the fever started. Gylar
had slept late into the morning without knowing it, and
Marakion had not come to a decision about waking him
yet. As he stood there, though, he could hear the boy
coming to.
He scuffed a groove into the wet snow. Casting a scathing
glance heavenward, he turned and made his way back into
the small cave.
Marakion stopped a half-dozen paces from the boy. Gylar
knew what was happening to him. Maybe he'd realized
it in the middle of the night - the fear was on his face - but
the fear was held at bay by determination
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