“Damn, Nighthawk, we have to give Vingalt an antibiotic or an antidote of some type as soon as possible,” he shouted. “She took a bath in the river yesterday. I think she’s been exposed to some local bug, poison, or something. A water creature of some type tried to bite her as she got out of the water. It might have scraped against her. I think she’s been poisoned.”
Quadril was a reticent person and had a hard time displaying his emotions, but had become exited as he realized the seriousness of Vingalt’s injury. Her being injured tore him inwardly but he put on a facade to hide it after he had gotten over the initial shock.
“Quadril, how is she?” Legar asked.
“I don’t know. She seems to be resting. I can’t tell if she’s better or not. Thanks.”
Quadril held her hand and nursed her as well as he could. but two days later Vingalt sat up, handed C’lot’ to him, gave him a tentative smile, reached out and touched his cheek with her hand, gave him a brief kiss, stared off into the distance, gurgled a little bit and lay back down and died.
