"Listen to me. I said you to need stay here. I won't let you go." Rowan slowly reached for Wren, hoping to anchor him with a touch but afraid to move too quickly lest he flee in some misguided attempt to keep Rowan at a distance.
Again Wren's skin burned with an unnatural fever. Rowan knew what to expect by now, and he held him more firmly as he inched closer. Wren's chest rose and fell rapidly as his breathing became more labored.
"I want to, but I'm so tired. My head…it hurts. Why won't it stop?" Wren's shoulders slumped. He stared at Rowan's hand with a mixture of longing and doubt. "I can't tell what's real anymore. I'm trying to fight it. But it's just like before."
The sound of Alaric's voice calling for him came from the direction of the hut, but Rowan kept his eyes on the man in front of him.
Every time I think of that shrine, I think of spiders and mildew. Good thing I like spiders. Mildew not so much.