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... sick. She didn’t have the fancy words the healers all had to describe the various types of sickness. She had a more practical take on it. Burning-vomiting-oozing pus sick. Useless for any sort of medical diagnosis, great for describing what was happening.
Iona had been utterly shredded by the adult frost wyvern, barely managing to cling onto life with her absurd vitality. It kept her alive, but infection had set in. Acid had eaten away at her innards, melting the edges of some of her org ...
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