He knows it's the fever and chills, the blood loss, the damn weakness that if only this sweet child's mother hadn't blundered in, maybe they could have saved her. He knows that she lost her own father and now she is orphaned twice over. He knows that it is the undeath that creeps into her veins and throttles her pure life.

Still, when she looks at him in delirium and agony, reaches for his hand, and calls to him in that terribly young voice "papa, it hurts", he can't help but reach and press a cool hand to her brow to soothe her.

"Shush, shush, my child," he murmurs. "It will be over soon. Rest."

"Don't leave me," she weeps, so softly. "It hurts so much."

"Shh, my child. I will stay, I will stay."