The silence from then on became tense. They sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts until feeble rays of dawn poked through the cracked windows.
When Claire looked up, she realized the woman had been dozing off.
A feeble sound broke through the haze of silence. Both of them jerked.
It was Arlan. He had coughed.
"Get him a pail." The woman quickly instructed. Claire fetched the same pail and brought it to him.
He retched everything he had in him into the pail.
The odour was gut-twisting.
But instead of grimacing, the woman had a smile of satisfaction on her face.
"The boy will live." She murmured.
Claire pulled him close and nearly squeezed the remaining life out of him.
He survived the worst already - the fever.
"Wa…wa..ter." He struggled to say.
Claire dashed for the jug faster than she could breathe.
He down the contents of the full jug without stopping. Water splattered on his neck and clothing in his haste.
Then, he set it aside with a loud thud.
