Day Sixty-Four: The Sky Darkened and the Earth Went dim, a special extra for Gentle Rising Clouds

My head aches terribly. I am starving.

At last I woke, with a blocked nose, sore eyes, and every muscle in my body aching. It reminded me of the time I first drifted onto this island, except this felt even worse, as though I had come down with a feverish chill.

The fire was almost out, only a few embers still blinking faintly in the ash. I certainly did not want it to die. Struggling upright, I gathered some thoroughly dried vines and coaxed the fire back to life. Then I added twigs and larger branches little by little, until the blaze was burning strong again, and only then did I sit back down.

The wind and rain outside were still fierce, but after yesterday’s ordeal they no longer seemed so frightening. At the very least, I was inside this treehouse that could shield me from the storm; besides, I had reinforced the little dwelling only a few days ago.

The fever last time had nearly killed me. Now that I had caught a chill, I could not help worrying even more.

Fortunately, I had once found some cold medicine in the ship’s cabin, and I had stored it on the upper level of the treehouse. As for whether it had expired, that was no concern of mine. Better to have it than not.

Only when I stood and tried to move did I realize how weak and sore my legs were. They could barely obey me. I was truly exhausted this time.

The upper level, which usually needed only a light support to reach, took me quite some time to climb this time. Still, I made it up at last. Little Black was quite sensible; while I was asleep, it had not come to bother me, but had curled up in its suitcase bed instead. There were several fruit pits in front of the bed; it must have been hungry and carried off a few fruits to eat on its own.

When it saw me come up, it seemed very surprised, then rushed toward me. Afraid it would ram into me, I quickly raised a hand to stop it. It was sensible enough to understand. The moment I held out my palm, it stopped, sat down at once on the floor, and looked at me with its body held upright.

The cold medicine was under my bedding. I found it as soon as I lifted the covers. After the repairs I had made last time, the upper level had not leaked again. Even though the storm outside was even fiercer than before, even though the tree was still swaying, the little house remained utterly unharmed.

After I went back down and boiled a pot of water, I felt as if my strength had been drained from me once more. My eyes must certainly have swollen; I could feel it clearly, and they could not open all the way. Since childhood I had been taught that when one had a cold, one should drink plenty of hot water, so after letting it cool a little, I took the medicine, then drank a large basin of water. Water is diuretic; perhaps after a few more rounds of this, my body would recover a little.

Though I had drunk myself full, my stomach was astonishingly still hungry, cramping with that hollow, twisting feeling. The contradiction left me helpless. I had meant to lie down and rest, but I also did not want to upset my stomach, and I absolutely did not want to eat the fruit or bananas, which I had no appetite for at all. Just looking at them made me feel slightly repelled. So I had no choice but to get up and cook some porridge.

The instant I stood, the world spun violently, and I nearly collapsed onto the floor. Fortunately, I managed to brace myself on the table. It happened so suddenly, and I put so much force into my hand, that I nearly shoved the table away.

Still, I steadied myself in the end. This misery was beyond words: pain mixed with nausea, nausea mixed with hunger, and all of it tangled with the soreness in my body and the dizziness in my head. It was simply indescribable.

The porridge finished cooking amid that unbearable feeling. Clearly, because I had just downed a large basin of water, I could not drink it yet. That was fine as well; it gave the porridge time to cool.

While I had been asleep, I had felt nothing, but now that I was fully awake, I realized just how greatly the little house swayed. I did not know what time it was now, but outside it must have been very dark.

Supporting myself, I made it to the doorway. Through the gap, I could see water pouring from the upper level like a waterfall, the patter of rain filling my ears. Visibility outside was extremely poor; I could not make out a thing. The dim sky looked as though night had already fallen.

"Did I only sleep for a little while? Is it night already?" I wondered.

"No, that can’t be right. I must have slept for quite some time. When I fell asleep, I never even took off my wet clothes. I was simply too drained. I don’t know whether I fainted or truly fell asleep. All I remember is what happened before I collapsed to the ground. Everything after that is a blank."

Yet when I woke, my clothes and trousers were already almost dry. Even lying beside the fire, it would have been impossible to dry my entire outfit in just a few hours. Perhaps it had been ten hours, or even longer. Of course, there was no way to know anymore, and in truth it no longer mattered.

The only thing that mattered to me was surviving: living on, healthy, and leaving this place alive.

While I waited, the urge to urinate finally came. The urine was very yellow. In the past, a cold or fever had always been a minor illness; as long as it was not a high fever, I could judge my condition for myself. Clearly, that color suggested I had probably been dehydrated, or perhaps some part of my body had become inflamed. Of course, this was hardly an authoritative diagnosis, only a guess based on common sense.

And indeed, that was exactly what had happened. I had gone far too long without water. Since leaving the house that morning, I had not taken a single sip. Although my throat did not exactly hurt, and my tonsils might not have been inflamed, there was definitely a strange sensation there, along with an itchiness. Perhaps that was the harbinger of inflammation.

Scooping up a bowl of porridge, I sprinkled in some sugar. Maybe because I had caught a cold, I now felt repelled by anything greasy, fishy, or heavy, and especially wanted something plain.

Sugar porridge was the simplest food I could think of, and the only thing I actually felt like eating. Perhaps I had gone too long without food, and my stomach had been emptied out.

Such a simple meal gave me a new sensation. The smooth, sweet porridge slipped down my throat, carrying warmth from my throat all the way into my stomach. I could clearly feel the movement of the food itself. The faint sweetness washed away the bitter taste already in my mouth, leaving only the natural flavor of the rice and the sweetness dissolved into the porridge broth.

After finishing that bowl of rice water, I felt far more alert. My stomach, filled with warm porridge, felt wonderfully comfortable, and the itchy sensation in my throat had eased a great deal as well.

With my hunger and thirst satisfied, and the medicine beginning to take effect, I soon grew sleepy again beside the fire, glowing with warmth.

Bang. Rustle, rustle.

Several times I dozed off while sitting, only to be startled awake when broken branches, snapped from the great tree by the wind, crashed onto the roof of the treehouse.

Fortunately, my roof was made from smaller trees, so those branches could not do it any harm. I also found myself feeling grateful that I had built the treehouse within this stand of woods. If not for the trees breaking the wind and blocking much of it, this little dwelling might already have ceased to exist.

I was worried, of course, but I was simply too sleepy. My mind wanted nothing but sleep.

Faintly, through the haze, I thought I heard a few sharp cracks as well.