I sat on the ground with my younger brother, Vyn, the dusty air making him cough violently. Either that t or, it was his sickness, Copper Fever. That's what we peasants call it. The fever was sweeping through the communities of commoners. Vyn started up another coughing fit. When he finished he heaved in deep gulps of air. "We should call for the doctor!"
"No. No. I'm fine. And we need the money." But even as he said it, copper liquid oozed from his eyes. " But you." — He coughed hard onto the floor and the flecks appeared on the floor as bright metallic spots. "You need to leave me!"
I was indignant. "I'm not leaving you!"
His bright blue eyes contrasted with his dark olive skin nicely. " I don't want to get you sick." He started hacking into his ragged sleeve. It appeared in bigger specks, glinting in the dim light of the dingy shack we call home.
"I haven't gotten sick yet," I said this with confidence saying: And I don't plan on it.
He shook his head, the strands of red in his dark head catching in the light. " Yet."
YOU ARE READING
Citys on the wall
FantasyIn a world called Venta, there is a wall. Not a literal wall but it's like one. It's like the city of Enith, Klake, and Belladore are above everyone else. Like they are on a high wall, separated, alone, blind to the things around them. Every other t...
