Tales Of Corwin

Sandra woke from a deep sleep and realized that she was drenched in sweat. Her PJs, her sheets, her pillow, all soaked. Even her hair seemed to be wet. Yuck. She sat up and flung the soggy covers off of herself. She felt light-headed, and weak as a kitten, but not quite so miserable as she had been, thank the Goddess. There was daylight in the room. The clock said three—but three o’clock of what day? And where was Mark? “Hello, Sandra,” said Lois McCutcheon from a chair in the corner. “Don’t stand up yet, child; let me have a look at you.” Lois set down her knitting and came over to the bed. “Ah, I can see that your fever has broken. Blessing on the squirrels, and may their fur never fall out!” “Sorry?” said Sandra. What did squirrels have to do with anything? “You’ve missed rather a lot, my dear. I’ll explain everything; but let’s take your temperature.” Lois popped the thermometer into Sandra’s mouth. “Ninety-nine five,” she announced. “So much better—but not quite back to normal. Try standing.” Lois hel