"On the south side of the mountain, next to the river, there's an orphanage..."
"They are smart and devout, they are devout and smart, little elves flow inside them..."
"Oh blue orphans, you need to be careful..."
A mature female voice sang a very childish nursery rhyme.
The singing seemed to come from a great distance, yet also felt very close, but it couldn't be heard clearly.
Horn's eyelids twitched, and he opened his eyes blankly, as brilliant sunlight accompanied by the scent of flowers drifted in from outside the window.
The weather cleared up?
Horn sat up, leaning his back against one corner of the four-poster bed. It was then that he suddenly realized that the pain in his sinuses had almost disappeared, and the once dry and itchy throat was producing a lot of phlegm.
Touching his forehead, sure enough, the fever had broken.
