Joanne’s POV
George leaned over one of the cots, his face pale and glistening with exhaustion.
“His fever is rising again,” he muttered, pressing a wet cloth against the soldier's chest. “I doubt he will make it through the night.”
I wrung out another strip of linen and handed it to him. My fingers trembled as I did, though I tried to hide it.
I wasn’t used to being around this many sick and dying men… I felt helpless.
The soldier on the cot groaned softly, his eyes unfocused. His lips were cracked and gray, and each breath came shallower than the last. I could feel it—that strange energy that had been stirring inside. It pulsed faintly under my skin, as if it recognized the poison for what it truly was.
“How did you know?”
The question came out of nowhere, and when I looked u
