Rolls upon rolls of beds covered the entire tent, each one occupied by a half-alive person. The heavy scent of herbs, prescriptions, and decay hung heavy on the air like a nasty stench. Coughing, choking, and rasping gasps for air cluttered the room. It was not a ward—it was a field of dying people struggling to breathe.
Alina stood stock still at the door. Her gaze flashed from one patient to another before her trembling hand rose to clamp over her mouth. "By the heavens." she whispered, trembling voice.
Luther did not move, though—face a mask, but his eyebrows twisted of their own accord. He had seen sick people before, even dead ones. But this. this was not right. Too wrong.
