By the light of my flashlight, I saw Mason curled up in his sleeping bag, shivering all over as his teeth chattered.
"Mason? What's wrong?" I nudged him.
His forehead was burning, and his face was deathly pale.
"Cold... I'm so cold," he murmured weakly.
He had a fever.
He had probably sweated through his clothes, then caught the chill from the night wind. His injured ankle had likely made matters worse.
I hurriedly found the fever medicine in my bag and gave him a little water to swallow it.
But he continued to shake violently.
We were miles from anywhere. If this went on, his fever could become dangerous.
Gritting my teeth, I unzipped his sleeping bag and climbed inside.
I wrapped my arms around him, trying to warm him with my body heat.
Like a drowning man clutching a lifeline
