You did your due diligence in keeping up with the gang. Your chores were taken care of on top of everything else you didn't need to do. You worked hard to earn your place there like like anybody else might've, but sometimes you didn't know when to stop pushing.

Arthur had noticed your wobbly steps, the way your cheeks puffed up to hide a cough and how sluggish you grew in the evenings. One day he approaches you, placing his palm to your forehead and huffing at the heat.

"I knew it," he grumbles. "Stubborn lil' thing... Yer sick, ain't you?"