The crying woman suddenly went limp. Her whole body sagged, and she fell forward onto her dead husband. The crowd gasped. For a moment, everyone froze.
But Zhao Mu grabbed her before she could hit the ground. He held her up with shaking arms and patted her cheeks. "Wake up! Wake up!" he said while panicking. But she didn't open her eyes. Her face was pale, and her breathing came in short and broken gasps.
Su Qinglan didn't hesitate. She pushed through the crowd and knelt beside them. Up close, she could see the woman's lips were dry and her hands were cold. Su Qinglan put two fingers to the woman's neck and then to her wrist, checking for breath and pulse.
"She's collapsed," Su Qinglan said softly. "We need to quickly carry her to the cave..."
Zhao Mu's face twitched, his eyes filled with panic. "No! I need to find the witch doctor! I have to get the sacrifices ready! I need the witch doctor to heal her!" His voice was urgent and hard, as if driven mad by despair.
