Galoring
Winter 207
She was gone for a bare ten minutes. She heard her mother choke horribly as she struggled to breathe against the phlegm that filled her lungs, panicked, and ran to the barricade at the entrance to the Spindlemark Quarter to beg the Swans to let her through, to find a healer, anything. They never even let her approach, keeping her at bay with pikes and shouting about filth and plague. By the time she returned, rebuffed, her mother’s chest had gone still.
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