Chapter 8 - The Fever
On the seventh night, the infection finally broke through Julian’s defenses.
The shrapnel wound in his thigh had turned angry and red, the skin hot to the touch. By midnight, Julian was shivering violently, his body burning with a high, wild fever. He began to drift in and out of consciousness, his mind trapped in a terrifying loop of battle memories.
"Get down!" Julian screamed, his hands clawing at the dirt. "Leo! Grab the apples! They're shelling the orchard!"
"Julian, easy, easy," Kaelen’s voice came through the dark, warm and steady.
Kaelen knelt beside him, his face filled with worry. He dipped his clean linen scarf into the cold water dripping from the pipe, gently placing it across Julian’s burning forehead.
Throughout the night, Julian thrashed and wept, calling out for his wife and his son. Kaelen never left his side. He held Julian’s hand, keeping him grounded, and continuously soaked the scarf to keep the fever from boiling his brain.
When the nightmares became too loud, Kaelen began to sing. He sang a soft, gentle lullaby from his coastal home—a song about the waves returning to the shore and the sun rising over the sea. He didn't know if Julian could hear him, but the rhythm of the song seemed to quiet the soldier's frantic breathing.
By dawn, the fever finally broke. Julian opened his eyes, tired and weak, to see Kaelen sitting beside him, his face pale with exhaustion, his hand still holding Julian's.
May you like
"You're still here," Julian whispered.
"I told you," Kaelen said, his voice hoarse from singing. "We're going home together."
