““It’s morning,” Tall called out to the other boy as he sat up. When the other didn’t stir, even with gentle nudging, Tall touched a hand to the dark-haired boy’s forehead. Feeling fever fire, he pulled the hand away quickly, almost as if burned. Fear overcame him. The fever took almost as many as it found. He wrapped his hands over his face and wept. His tears were shameful, he knew, but he couldn’t stop them. His first thought was that he must save Keene, for if he were cast out of the village..., Keene would be his only friend. His next thought was that he was unworthy of such a friend as Keene—he was unworthy of any friend. He should work to save Keene because Keene deserved to live and not because he did not want to be alone. All life was sacred—and there it was. The real reason for his tears. The lives of the bull and queen mattered as much as his own, and yet when it came down to it, he had chosen his life over theirs. Fleetingly he wondered if the village arbor would weep for him when he was cast out.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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