Suppressing a cough, Shyan says, “It’s been better.”
“What do you mean?” Fassn asks, prodding at the skin of his forearm. “This tingling feeling, you don’t like it?”
“No, Fassn, I don’t like it,” Shyan says. “I can’t feel my toes and my tongue feels like it’s burning.”
“Aw, I didn’t get that,” he says. He sticks out his tongue and grabs it like his hand is a set of forceps.
“Humans are strange,” says the princess.
Cang nods, disgusted by his friends’ display. “Fortunately, daily life is not always like this.” Abia shifts her weight and Cang adds, “Well, not wholly often.”
“So, the antidote,” Shyan says, her face ashen. “Wait, one moment,” she adds, ducking into a bush to vomit. Wiping her lip with the back of her battered leather gauntlet, she says again, “So, the antidote.”