Day Sixty-Two: Attempt (Part One)

I am truly at my wit’s end with the weather here! After a nap, I awoke once more to the steady patter of rain… It’s enough to drive anyone mad. I really can’t understand why it rains so much in this place. At least now I know why that little river never runs dry.

On rainy days like this, I have no desire to go outside. I might as well just sleep a little longer… With that thought, I closed my eyes again.

But the incessant sound of rain was so irksome that I simply couldn’t fall asleep. Perhaps it was partly my own restless heart. After tossing and turning for a while, I finally sat up.

If I can’t sleep, then I won’t force it.

I made myself a cup of lemon honey water, hoping it would soothe my agitation. With the first sip, the effect was immediate—the initial taste was tart, but soon after, a gentle sweetness followed. The two sensations melded perfectly, the sweet flavor balancing out the lemon’s acidity. A few more sips and my mood began to calm.

The rain wasn’t heavy, nor was it light—it fell thick and steady. Even if someone handed me an umbrella, I wouldn’t want to go out. In this already humid and stifling weather, the rain makes everything around me damp and clammy: mud, trees dripping endlessly, and decaying leaves soaked in puddles…

Suddenly, I heard a series of angry, pained cries from Little Black. Wasn’t he downstairs, drinking the lemon tea I made for him? Had he stepped on the fire? That couldn’t be. Or could it be a snake…?

As I wondered, I rushed downstairs, praying silently that it wasn’t a venomous snake.

I reached Little Black in an instant. He was licking his foreleg!

“Injured?” My heart lurched, a wave of dread washing over me. Here, what else but a snake could bite him indoors?

I saw traces of blood on the fur of his foreleg. I wished I could drag out and punish whatever creature had bitten him!

Time was of the essence; if it really was a venomous snake, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I steadied Little Black’s head and quickly grabbed a vine, trying to tie off his leg to slow the blood flow, hoping to keep any venom from reaching his heart.

If the poison made it to his heart, not even a miracle could save him.

I tied it quickly, perhaps too tightly—Little Black whimpered in distress, trying to resist and gnaw through the vine binding his leg.

After doing my best to calm him, I found myself a nervous wreck—anxious, distressed, pained, stifled, worried—a flood of emotions overwhelmed me, leaving me unable to think. I couldn’t accept this situation!

My eyes were probably red already. Cradling Little Black’s head, I tried to keep him from licking his wound, but he kept trying. I parted the fur on his leg and saw the wound, with a thin trickle of blood. The wound itself was tiny, but the bite marks were clear, and the area was already a bit swollen.

I was nearly losing control, the agony of worry clouding my judgment and interfering with my attempts to treat him.

Wait, I should squeeze the blood from the wound…

But—wait!

“That’s not right!” I suddenly realized. The blood on Little Black’s leg was bright red!

Could it be that it wasn’t a venomous snake?

Only now, as my panic subsided, did I realize this. I didn’t know for certain if all venomous snake bites caused dark blood, but after another careful look, I was fairly sure it wasn’t a snake bite.

I could see a small red mark around the wound. If it had been a snake, there should have been two fang marks. Fortunately, it wasn’t. My heart settled a little, though the anxiety and dread lingered.

I squeezed a bit of blood from the wound, then rinsed it with clean water. That should be enough for now.

The wound was a little red and raised, but it didn’t look too serious. Still, I refused to let my guard down and decided to keep a close eye on him.

I had no idea what creature had bitten Little Black. Perhaps a lizard, or some other small animal? I couldn’t be sure, and there was no way to find out now. Judging by the size of the wound, the culprit wasn’t tiny. By now, whatever it was had surely fled, leaving me with nothing to do but hope Little Black would be all right.

Little Black, not even finished with his honey lemon water, now turned and started drinking it again—as carefree as ever, while I was left a bundle of nerves.

My once peaceful mood had been shattered by this episode. On rainy days, it’s normally a pleasure to sit by the door, sip tea, and watch the rain, letting one’s thoughts drift and the gloom lift. But now, with this interruption, I couldn’t recapture that feeling. I considered whether I should try making arrowroot powder from the arrowroots I had—in truth, I didn’t have a clear plan.

There were plenty of arrowroots, and with all this rain, I had time for many attempts.

Clearly, I failed again and again. I tried drying the arrowroot, but ended up burning it. I put some in a pot to roast, but couldn’t control the temperature and again burned them.

I wondered if I could slice the arrowroots, dry them in the sun, or slowly dry them over the fire, and then grind them into powder once fully dried and hard. Perhaps that was the proper method.

But this approach was time-consuming and troublesome. If there were several sunny days in a row, it might work, but with this weather, drying them above the fire risked burning, while too far from the fire, the process would be slow. It was better to wait for sunshine.

Before trying, I’d been so confident, convinced I’d find a solution. I didn’t expect to hit a dead end so quickly. The urge to give up echoed in my heart, though reason kept urging me to be patient, to persist…

After much contemplation, my mind was a jumble. I had many ideas, but none held up; as soon as I examined them, I dismissed them as useless.

I don’t know how long I pondered, but at last I managed to dredge up a useful memory.

After much deliberation, I thought—perhaps, just perhaps—this method might actually work.