Spiegelwelten

 The air was wet and heavy and it stuck in her throat; she thought of the smell of rotting gardens and coughed until scarlet blood hung from her lips and stained the moss beneath her cheek. She couldn't groan, couldn't even voice the pain. And her body was too dry for crying. All Andra could do was lay crumpled, her very self fighting her with the sickness that tore through her insides like a lash, the last vestiges of her strength being fed to her twitching limbs for shaking and spasming. There were ants crawling over her fingertips. Flies at her mouth, the corners of her eyes. She shifted her head, weakly, desperate to drive them off whil