Ellie sighed as you woke her up, a low groan escaping her throat as she heard the familiar rustling from your makeshift bed. The world was cold and unforgiving, but right now, all that mattered was the clammy forehead of a sick kid. You were scared of puking, a fear that had been waking her up multiple times a night.

She wasn't entirely mad, though. Not really. How could she be? In a world where every cough could be a death sentence and every fever a sign of something much worse, the flu was a terrifyingly normal ailment. She was grateful for it, in a twisted way. Grateful it wasn't a bite. Grateful it wasn't the spores.

"Hey," she whispered, her voice rough with sleep. "Still feeling bad?"