7
More fires lit in bins had warmed their hands as they passed into Macedonia. Train rides had carried them to Serbia. Now, deserted tracks guided Amira and Rima to the Hungarian border.
Rima was tough. Didn't complain about the blisters on her feet or the nasty cough on her chest.
But she was getting worse. Her temperature high. Her body weak. Her skin turning pale.
Traipsing in a long line of refugees, Amira didn't have to be a doctor to know Rima needed urgent medical care. The best she could do was keep her warm. A discarded blue coat had helped. It was several sizes too big. The sleeves flapped long over Rima's hands. The tail of the coat extended down to her ankles. But Rima loved it.
Amira herself had found a red woollen sweater caught in a prickly bush. She'd bloodied her fing
