It had been two days since they left Whiskey Peak. Igaram's face burned with fever and was lathered with sweat. Even in his unconscious state, he was frowning in pain.

Vivi wrung the water from the cloth and carefully placed it on his forehead. Then she knelt beside his futon with a quiet sigh, her bandaged hands clasped together on her lap and her eyes locked on his face.

Vivi knew little of medicine, but even she knew that the skin around his wounds turning an angry red wasn't a good sign. Sabo had reassured her, being the one with a more thorough understanding of medicine than anyone else aboard. But the way his brow furrowed in obvious concern made a fear of infection creep into her mind.

She couldn't imagine losing Igaram; the idea was just unthinkable. He seemed stable for now, but if his fever didn't break in the next few days '