Instead of our usual breakfast in the Sun Room, we all opt to eat in the medical center to be with Amon. He’s fast asleep, now washed, dressed in soft white and tan clothes, and tucked into a cot on the second floor, the wing dedicated to Wards. I stare at his face, anxious for Amon to wake but wanting him to get as much sleep as possible.
Neil nudges me with his elbow. “He ain’t food. Let the poor boy sleep.”
I scowl at Neil as the other Wards chuckle before going back to my apple, banana, strawberry, and fireweed salad. “I’m just relieved,” I say.
“Me too,” Veremund says. “I only wish Andeuten was still with us.”
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