The tents are the last place she wants to be, really, but she hasn't managed to pry herself upward long enough to wonder in any given direction. Her bones feel like jelly, her skin fever-flushed and burning, and while the rain sounds like a good idea she can't quite bring herself to move.

Yet.

She has thrown up today, though luckily not into Simon's cot. She still looks miserable, eying the mug of water in front of her with a baleful look, curled up in a corner of the tent with her gaze occasionally drifting this way and that. At once point she starts murmuring something under her breath.

Hard to say if it's to herself or someone nearby...