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"Gwyllion!" he cried as he slapped her as hard as he could on the face. She did not stir, her face was white and pinched, as if the life had been sucked from her. His slap did nothing to her but leave a harsh red mark upon her cheek. Aeron cursed himself and said, "Gwyllion...Gwyllion! Wake up!"
He pulled his sister to his chest and smoothed her hair. It was tangled, mud clung to it, and there was some marsh weed strung through it. He rocked her and said, "Breathe you little idiot. You cannot live if you don't breathe."
Little Gwyll...why? Why did these bad things happen? Why had that slimy thing dragged her under in the deep, muddy, slimy water? Why had she even been that close to the dratted water in the first place? She should know better. It was unfortunate that she did not fear water as much as she feared blood.
What if she died? Would she be happier? He did not know. But what use was there screaming at it, ranting at it? His crying would not stop her from dying. If she died, she would no longer be plagued about her father, nor have to have spasms of fear rack through her at the sight of blood. "Breathe...please!" he whispered, hugging her.
Her body undulated upwards, forcing the swallowed water out of her body. She gasped for breath and clutched at Aeron. "Gwyllion!" he shouted, forcing her upright and wiping the water from her mouth. "You're alive!" Alive!
She nodded and said, "Yes-- the black thing was --"
If she wasn't careful she would talk herself back into the sickness. Typical of women. He put his hand over her mouth and said, "Shush you. Rest is what you need."
"But --"
Protesting, as usual. He rolled his eyes and said, "Make it quick."
"Is Raefindan all right?"
"Of course!" he snorted. "Now, you rest!"
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