"Draven, dear," she rushed towards him, taking his hand in hers. It was so cold, and his whole body was trembling, his hands clasped across his chest while the rest of him curled up tightly.
Madeline squeezed his cold hands, shaking him vigorously, but he did not respond. His eyes were shut tightly, and if it weren't for his labored breathing and shaking body, one might think him lifeless.
"Draven," she tried again, attempting to rouse him. When her hand touched his temple, she felt the heat radiating from his skin.
Madeline jumped back, overcome with panic, then she bend over him, tears streamed down her face like a waterfall. This was all her fault; Draven was sick, and yet she had left him out here in the cold.
"Please," she cried, her voice growing small and hoarse as fear gripped her throat. "I am sorry, Draven. I will never leave you. Please, wake up."
