Sabine would not be leaving Cambria. That was something that she'd realized some time ago. 

The witch had ignored it initially. It had been her first mistake. If there was to be any real hope of fighting the disease, it had to be attacked early on. Sabine had ignored her sore head, dismissed it as little more than stress, and tiredness. She'd done the same with the exhaustion, even as it had begun to ebb deep into her very bones. After a while, it had been denial more than anything else. Maybe also a realization that if her days were numbered, then she might as well put them to good use. She'd helped the women of Cambria for as long as she could, until her body too had given up. 

Now, she lay in bed, unable to do so little as raise her head. The woman was seemingly quite calm. She'd tended to enough of the sick over the course of the past few weeks to know how this was going to end. She'd asked for someone from Nevermere, insisting that they kept their distance. She had a single, simple last request.