Sick and Tired

The sun had long since set and Modesty had managed to drag herself into the space that was usually reserved for meetings. Someone had come and stoked the fire in the hearth and she flopped herself down on the warmed tiles, panting heavily. Since when had simply moving become so hard? Wet, chesty coughs wracked her frame and she dragged one of the pelts she had taken outside over her shoulder, allowing her head to drop to the floor, nose pointed at the flickering flames. The stairs were the least of her worries at the moment. She just needed a moment, and then she would try to drag herself back to the bedroom.

“Speech.”