Chapter 7

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Timothy had never felt stronger.

He picked up his creme collided pillow, raising it up and down slightly in his hands as if checking the surprisingly lightness of its weight before chucking it at the wall.

It hit against the pale blue surface with a small, fluffy smack and fell to the floor in a rumpled heap as Timothy trotted over and retrieved it, tossing it onto his bed.

He was getting stronger, and he knew it. His newfound was intoxicating, almost. He may seem skinnier, and smaller around the waist. His weight may have been dropping, but he felt strong, so he must have been getting better.

He'd stopped eating as much, too. He just wasn't hungry, and Timothy wasn't one for eating something he didn't want. The last time he'd eaten past his feeling full, he'd fallen ill to the stomach and didnt want that to happen again.

So when his father gave him a plate with food and returned to his study, Timothy would slip from his seat at the table, lift up the trashcan lid, move some of the trash aside, dump the food, and then carefully replace the miscellaneous discarded items back over it where the food would go unseen.

It was a perfect plan to stop his father from worrying about his lack of eating. He felt fine, and so saw it as no need to alert his father to his drastic drop in weight, or the dizzy spells that would sometimes overtake him where he'd shudder violently and slightly foam at the mouth.

Sophie didn't seem worried whenever that happened. She'd just playfully throw a blade of grass or something at his shoulder and they'd return to playing after he'd rested.

If she wasn't worried, he wouldn't be either.

Today was a rather chilly morning, the dew yet to melt and burn off of the grass and window panes. Overhead, light grey clouds ambled by in the sky and it gave everything a slightly misted sort of effect. The grass was frosted with the midnight dew and so were the boughs of Timothy's pine trees. It was a beautiful sight and he couldn't wait to escape into it.

Usually, he wasn't allowed out on days like this, but today, he'd escape. His father had stayed up very late, he'd been informed, and was taking a nice, long nap to catch up on his sleep.
This was the perfect chance to go see and play with Sophie. Timothy was sure she'd love the forest like this just as much as he.

His father never really wanted to go out and play, anyway.

And so, it was on this day that Timothy raised up the window in his room, no warm clothes except for a green,  long sleeve and a pair of pajama pants because of how comfy they were, slipped out into the frosted air, and disappeared into the forest.

The air was comfortably crisp, filling his lungs biting, almost frigid air, but he loved it. After all, he had never been outside when it was cold. The chill caressed his skin with a harsh touch, sharpening his focus as he ran through the forest.

The air was cold, but he was hot. Soon, he felt a drip of sweat start moving down his forehead from his hairline. When he went to wipe it away, he discovered that his skin was moist and clammy.

Oh well. He sweated on hot days, too, so he was used to such phenomena. If you sweat on hot days, and everything was fine, sweating on cold days must be the same. After all, all young Timothy had to do during the summer was drink plenty of water when he got home and he was fine.

Besides, he was stronger now. He could take a little cold, surely.

Sophie was visably happy to see him when he appeared, still in her pretty green dress and bare feet. She was pristine and as clean as always, with her wild ginger hair somehow seeming uniform with its unruliness.

Her expression changed to a pensive one, however, when he stopped, huffing and puffing, beside her.

"Did you run all the way here?" she asked, standing from where she sat at the poond, walking over and gently wiping away the sweat on his forehead. It sent a thrilling, warm rush through him, but that was because her touch was like a brush of wind, warm and comforting.

"No, I stopped every so often and walked but I mostly did."

Timothy was very proud of himself, a bright smile on his face as he beamed up at the taller girl. He was so strong now! Wouldn't she be impressed?

But no, all she had was a worried look on her face.

"Timothy, you're shivering," she said softly, gripping her thumbnail between her teeth with her hand curled like that of a baby's when it was sucking it's thumb. It was a habit of hers whenever she was nervous or was deep in though, he'd noticed.

"Bah, I'm fine. I never felt better!"

That was true. The air didn't feel so cold anymore. His fingers may have lost a little feeling and his feet were numb and soaked from the dew melting on his shoes, but otherwise he felt fine. Well, a little dizzy, but otherwise fine.

He was a little bit lightheaded, too. That was odd; usually he was just dizzy.

"Timothy, your father is looking for you! He found that you were gone when your doctor showed up to check on you."

He cocked his head. How did she know that? More importantly...

"Doctor? I didn't know he was coming today."

"He wanted to check in and see how you're doing in the cold weather."

Sophie looked near panicked now.

"They just started following your tracks in the frost!"

Timothy finally noticed that his breathing was short and his chest was tight, a pain coming from his ribs as he staggered. He'd remembered noting them before one of the few times he'd stopped to walk, but had been so excited to be outside that he'd ignored it. The pain was worse now, causing him to sit down rather clumsily. His breaths came shallow as he slightly wheezed with each inhale.

Sophie looked around worriedly, frantically. She looked scared and upset about something, but Timothy couldn't really get his throat to speak well enough for him.

The dizziness increased, his head feeling as light as his pillow had in his hands before. He must have run too much, because he was feeling very tired.

All worry about his father looking for him flew out of his mind, Sophie's usual clear, yet delicate voice fading for the first time in ever. He yawned, leaning against the tree where the salamander dragon lived. In his mind, it curled around him as chills raced through his body and as he shook.

Distantly, beyond his drooped eyelids, he thought he heard a little girl vowing to save him from the same fate as her.

What did that mean? It didn't really matter to him. The darkness in his head made him feel fuzzy while his body was getting cold. It was nice and was more of an out-of-body experience. Sensing no danger, Timothy closed his eyes and slept.

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