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Astolpho tended the men. Then returned to Bradamante’s tent to pray for a vision. Then tended the men. Then prayed for a vision.
Daylight was fast disappearing. And still no vision had come.
Jara returned from her foray to the southern side of camp, looking as cold as Astolpho felt. She hurried to the small fire Astolpho had built in front of Bradamante’s and Jara’s tent. She warmed her hands over the flames.
Her eyes had a watery, feverish look to them above her mask. Astolpho felt her forehead to see if it was hot.
But it was as cold as the air around them. Still, something seemed to be wrong. Jara seemed distant. Distracted. She hadn’t said a word since she returned.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“Some.” Then Jara seemed to com
