The Withering

DOCTOR BROWN, ALICE soon came to find out, was a young man who couldn't have been older than maybe twenty-five. He looked scholarly and kind, with glasses set on his nose and soft features that almost made him look feminine. 

However, in the event where he was called in for Cedar's health, he looked anything but soft. His eyebrows were twisted into a tight furrow as he stumbled into Cedar's room, the door snapping open sharply as everyone turned to look at him.

"Where is he?" he asked, wasting not even a second for niceties.

"Here," Rose said, standing to her feet and backing away so that Doctor Brown was allowed space to work on Cedar. 

The frail boy lay on the bed, breathing raggedly through his mouth as he frowned even in his sleep. Shortly after he had coughed up blood, Cedar had gone unconscious. It took Alice and Rose every bit of strength they had to pull him back to the cabin.