Morning light filtered through the cabin's dusty windows, painting stripes of gold across Amal's pale face. She stirred weakly, her eyelids fluttering open for just a moment before squeezing shut against the pain. A soft whimper escaped her cracked lips as she tried - and failed - to lift her head from the sweat-dampened pillow.
Karam was at her side instantly, gentle fingers pressing against the girl's clammy forehead. "Her fever's spiking again," he announced, voice tight with concern. The medical kit lay open beside her, its meager supplies already dwindling after hours of tending to Amal's wounds.
Shihab hovered near the foot of the bed, his usual humor absent. "We're out of our depth here," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "That head wound... She needs real doctors
