My stomach started churning and bubbling as I lay still on my bed. There was no noise. No coughs from the living room, no gentle snores, no creak as Mother tossed and turned in the bed. Absolutely nothing.

"Mother?" I called out into the stillness. There was no reply.

"Mother!" I cried out again, more desperately this time. This is all a dream, there is no way this is could be happening. If I pinch myself hard enough, I'll wake up back in Sean's cart on the way to Aldare with all of the hard-earned stock beside me. I pinched myself until I was black and blue all up my arm, but I couldn't escape the horrible situation with a lot of equally horrible possibilities I was in right now.

No, no, no. Be like Father, Claire. Mother won't have died, she'll simply be sleeping so quietly you can't hear her from your room. Even better, she could be completely healed and have just gone out to the market to buy something nice to celebrate.

But no matter how hard I tried, I had to admit I didn't have Father's knack of looking for the positives in a situation. Pure fright forced me to sit bolt upright and swing my legs out of bed to find out what had happened.

I ran into the kitchen and living room, tears streaming down my face at this point, and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the bed. Mother wasn't there. I then started battling back and forth in my mind.

See! She's better and gone to the market to celebrate.

She's been sick for months and hasn't gotten much better even with medicine. She's died and been taken away.

But maybe she's just outside for fresh air!

It's raining, why would she be outside? She's gone.

I couldn't wait any longer for answers. I sprinted into the village, into the pouring rain, and pounded on Mrs O'Reilly's door. I heard a muffled voice coming from inside.

"Don't come in, I'm taking care of someone sick. You'll get sick as well."

My heart skipped a beat. Could it be Mother? But why would Mrs O'Reilly be taking care of her? Without thinking, I shoved the door open and stepped inside Mrs O'Reilly's cottage, which was no different to ours, and rushed around blindly trying to find the old woman.

"For goodness' sake, I told you not to come in. Unless you're Claire, get out you-" Mrs O'Reilly came running out and looked quite surprised when she saw me. Her sleeves were rolled right up and her apron and face were shiny with sweat, despite that it was getting colder as the days went on.

"Claire! Are you alright dear? I thought that someone was just trying to poke their nose in. Your Mother's in the kitchen, just through-" I didn't give her a chance to finish as I dashed through the cottage, making a mess as my bare feet were covered in mud.

Mother was lying on a bed identical to the one at home, but under her were plenty of blankets, giving her a makeshift mattress. I admired the blankets, wishing I could be as nimble with wool as I am with needle and thread. I used to watch Mother knit all the time before she fell ill. Shawls, blankets and other things were all made by her hands, which were surprisingly quick despite how huge and red and rough they were. Mother had tried to teach me countless times how to knit, but I always fumbled, dropping stitches constantly and even throwing my work across the room in anger sometimes. Eventually, we agreed that Mother would stick to knitting and crocheting, and  I would tackle the sewing and weaving.

Seeing Mother lying there was a painful reminder that she couldn't knit for hours like she used to. Beside the bed, there were lots of herb jars, and Catherine, the village healer, was bending over her. Seeing me in the room, Catherine turned to me and whispered, "You can talk to her quickly, but then you should rest. You've had a hard few days, and your mother needs to sleep."

I crept over to Mother, and almost screamed in shock. She was so pale and sick, looking worse than when I left her what felt like years ago. I had only left her for at most a day, and this happened! I composed myself, and gently told her that I loved her and would see her soon, but I had to rest.

"Don't worry, she's in good hands," said Catherine. I gave her a small smile, and followed Mrs O'Reilly to a bundle of blankets in a corner of her tiny bedroom.

"You should get some sleep Claire, and when you wake up tomorrow, I think you deserve some answers. As Catherine said, your Mother is safe, but tell her or me if you need anything. It's quite late, goodnight." Mrs O'Reilly gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as I snuggled down into the blankets. But I couldn't sleep. I had too much on my mind. I couldn't forgive myself for leaving Mother alone, and now she was even worse. Yes, she's now in good hands, but it's all my fault. I eventually drifted off to the sound of thousands of accusing voices in my head, all of them screaming, It's all your fault, it's all your fault, it's all your fault...