After Finley dabbed Abrial's burning forehead for a moment that felt extremely awkward to Abrial, Abrial pulled back slightly and cleared her throat. A glimmering brightness returned to her eyes, which had been dim with tiredness a moment ago.
"Can you tell me a story, Finley? I'm really bored sitting in here already, and I just woke up! It's so cramped and stuffy in here…Please?" Abrial sounded vaguely like a spoiled kid whining for sweets.
In reality, the tent wasn't cramped and stuffy at all. It was quite spacious and aired out for the sake of preventing the spread of illness to all infirmary patients. But to Abrial, it felt like a familiar prison: a mostly enclosed space with sunlight streaming through an opening, where she had to lie in bed and try to sleep. Just like her bedroom at the house, where she had tried so hard to sleep all those nights as moonlight streamed in the windows like a silver blade behind her eyelids.
