Zana's fever came on quietly, without warning or spectacle, folding itself into the day so gradually that it took Willow longer than she liked to recognize it for what it was. There was no dramatic break, no sharp moment of alarm. Instead, there was only the altered weight of her child against her shoulder, heavier than usual, her small body unusually still, her movements dulled in a way that did not immediately read as illness but registered as wrong all the same.
