I rise slowly, my muscles straining just with that simple task. “Take me to my sister.”

I follow him down the little hallway to the room next door. Inside, the healer is in a rocking chair, dozing. Petrik is out on the floor. My sister looks clean and fresh on the bed, her arm and side bound heavily.

Ignoring the hand Kellyn tries to touch me with, I go to Temra, slide into the bed next to her. I let my hand brush over her hair, kiss the back of her head, push myself against her until I can feel her heat. Feel that she’s alive and all right.

Both Petrik and the healer rouse when they hear my crying.

“She’s alive,” I say. The healer had said something about surviving the first night being crucial.

“I’m keeping her unconscious,” the healer says, “because the pain will be unbearable right now, and if she fidgets about, she could start bleeding again.”

“That’s good,” Petrik says before I can. He stands up to the bed, looking down into Temra’s face.

“You should prepare yourselves.”

We turn to the healer at the same time a horrible cough shakes Temra’s entire body. Blood slides out the side of her mouth. I dab it away with the sleeve of my shirt.

“Wh-what do you mean?” I ask. “She survived the night.”

“I didn’t expect her to,” the healer admits. “She lost a lot of blood, and her wounds were more severe than I originally thought. While I’ve stitched up her side, the sword nicked the lung. Blood is trickling in. She will continue to cough it up.” A pause. “It’s not a wound that will heal, and there is nothing more I can do for her, except to make her comfortable. She doesn’t have longer than a week.”

“What?”

“I can wake her when you’re ready to say your goodbyes.”

“N-no! You’re wrong. She’s fine. She’ll live. She’s stronger than anyone I know.”

“I’ll leave you all alone to talk.”

The older woman exits, shutting the four of us inside the bedroom.

I think I might be shaking. I think I might lose control of my limbs and collapse or rage or do something else. But I know that everything is wrong, and Temra is here and alive but it doesn’t feel like she is.

Petrik stares at the door where the healer left before turning back around. He takes Temra’s free hand and rubs a thumb over her knuckles.

“We need to talk about what to do with Kymora,” Kellyn says.

“You can hang her for all I care,” I say. “I don’t want to talk about Kymora. Temra is hurt, and we need to do something.”

“Ziva, there’s nothing to be done.”

“What do you know? You’re no expert in medicine, and that old woman is a hack. We need to find someone else. Take her to someone better.”

“Ziva, she’d never survive a journey.”

“Then we’ll bring someone to her.”

“Ziva—”