A Fever In The Heartland の小説・ストーリー

Really hurts. “You okay?” Damien's hand stays lightly on my shoulder, steadying me. I manage a tiny nod. He doesn't look convinced. Instead, he immediately looks at the doctor. The doctor comes forward and takes my temperature, my heart rate, lights up my eyes, and ultimately puts down his instruments. “Don't worry,” he assures me, “she has something called a psychogenic fever.” Three blank faces confront him. He smiles knowingly. “A fever caused by stress. On occasions where an individual is under prolonged stress or anxiety, the body's response is to increase its temperature through the brain.”

Not like a cold or flu, not like something I can take medicine for but like I’ve been crying all night without knowing. Like I lost something in the dark. And now daylight has arrived but it didn’t bring it back. I sit up slowly, my limbs sluggish and sore, my skin too hot. I press the back of my hand to my forehead and pull it away quickly. Burning. Am I sick? It feels like fever, like my blood’s trying to climb out of me. But it’s not just my body. It’s my heart. There’s something… wrong with it. Like it’s trying to remember a rhythm it once danced to. Like a song I forgot the words to, but the melody still aches in my bones.

She moaned her name but she was feeling dizzy the moment she woke up. “Georgia, are you okay?” Heart asked as she leaned closer to her. “You look sick.” Heart commented. Georgia then sat down on the sofa and touched her forehead. “I am burning..” She mumbled. Heart felt worried and then touched Georgia’s neck and forehead. “Hey, you have a high fever! Let’s go to the hospital!” Heart said with a worried face. Georgia shook her head and looked away. She lied down on the sofa again and pulled the blanket on her.

“Mom?” “Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes, “It’s Liam.” My stomach drops. “He’s burning up. I tried everything, cold cloths, calming teas, even a damp moonroot wrap, but his fever won’t go down. Not even a little.” “No,” I whisper, the word tearing out of me like a breath I wasn’t ready to lose. “No, no, no.” “I think it’s wolf fever,” she says gently. “I think he’s got it from that man we saw earlier.”

"What did you do?" "Keane bullied me, I kicked him, just..." Jasper felt wronged and tried to speak again, "Dear, my fever doesn’t seem to be subsiding." Summer raised her hand and touched her forehead, then touched his body again. His body temperature was very hot, he was really feverish.

“How do you feel? Tell me, I can give you some relief.” “Eden, please—I just need to sleep a little, I will be fine.” I have never seen him so helpless and vulnerable, his eyes remained shut and he tucked the comforters up to his neck. “Do you feel pain anywhere?” I asked curiously, and he shook his head, but the way he winces proves otherwise, running back to the wardrobe, I went to get my thermometer. And I almost gagged when the thermometer was reading a flipping 41 degrees, he needs immediate medical assistance, if he leaves this fever unattended to, then he risks having an organ failure.

"Call me Donnie . . . sweetheart. We're all . . . friends here." She picked up his hand, holding it between her own. "Donnie. Let's be clear that neither Dr. Girard nor I are trying to talk you into anything. We just want you to have all the information possible. Sometimes when people are sick, our perspective can be skewed. A fever can impact our way of thinking." Donnie frowned, blinking rapidly. "So you're saying I could make a decision . . . that could lead to me checking out . . . and it could be just the fever talking?"

She lay motionless, her breathing shallow and weak. Carter didn't respond. The doctor had said that her fever was high, dangerously close to 104 degrees Fahrenheit. It was a viral flu that ebbed and surged relentlessly. It wasn't life-threatening, but if the fever refused to go away, it could damage her lungs. "I'm stepping out for a bit. You guys stay here," Carter said. The kids were around nine now—old enough for him to trust that they would behave. Once he was gone, Lauren stirred and opened her eyes, turning to look at the two kids. They were looking back at her from a distance, too.

SARAH: (a⁠pproa​ching, touc​hing Ayan‌a’s forehead) “You feel warm. Le‌t me get th‌e thermometer.” [She return⁠s with the ther⁠mometer, takes AYANA’s t‍e‍mpe​rature. The reading ma⁠kes her⁠ freeze: 38‍.‍4 degr‍ee⁠s Celsius. F⁠ever. Af⁠ter eigh‍teen mo‍nths‌ of​ treatment, they know wh‍at feve​r means—possible infection, or wor‌s‍e. S‍A​RAH and AMON exc‍h​ange glan‌ces, immediate fear and familiarity.] ⁠S‌ARAH: “We need to call Dr. A​siim‍we. Now.”

"What if I stayed home today?" "I don't want to force you to stay," Liam murmured, his voice unusually vulnerable for an alpha who typically commanded rooms with his mere presence. "You're not forcing me," I assured him, surprised by my own sincerity. "I want to stay and take care of you." I checked his temperature—102.2°F. That was dangerously high, even for our kind. "Maybe we should still consider the clinic," I suggested nervously. "What if this affects your... you know." I didn't need to elaborate—high fevers could sometimes trigger uncontrolled shifts, especially in powerful alphas like Liam.