When the stranger placed his slender hand onto Franco’s forehead the boy stirred in his bed, and beads of black sweat perspired from his pits.
Pica gasped to see this, but stood back, fixed on the spot - putting her faith with the one who had come.
He whispered into the boy’s ear, in a faraway language that mother Pica could not recognize; and he bathed the child’s arms with a tonic that filled the room with the fragrance of young trees.
Shortly after - in only minutes it did seem - little Francis opened his eyes and recognized the Elven visitor. He leapt out of the bed and twirled on the floor.
Pica put some water on to boil and continued as though nothing had happened.
She took care not to show her fear and busied herself - this being her way of steading the world around her.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances
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