Human Nature #2
Thick fur, not the shave job that Cornelius had given the area when dressing the wound.
A wound that was, now, nothing more than a set of raised pink lines, the edges of which were puckered by rough treatment during the healing period.
Watt rested a hand beneath Maggie’s muzzle, gently turning her face towards him.
“What happened to you two?”
Dawn was on the horizon when Watt attempted something incredibly stupid, and Cornelius was unable to do anything but watch.
He’d dozed on and off throughout the night, watching Watt as he worked.
They’d tried formulating a plan together, but it was near impossible to hear each other without breaking their vocal cords.
Regardless, it became clear what Watt planned to do as he prepared vines throughout the night, transforming them into a makeshift rope. A large rock sat off to the side of his work area, dutifully protected by Maggie until Watt was ready to tie the rope around it.
It was a terrible idea.
The tower was a cool weight at Cornelius’ back, and besides Watt’s presence the stone was the only thing keeping him grounded. Despite the fact that they were separated by the river, seeing Watt again was a constant relief to his soul that would not ebb.
How many days had passed since he’d heard Watt’s laugh?
How many nights had he spent cursing himself for not telling Watt the truth?
He’d lost count. He’d lost everything, including himself.
And now Watt was here, working through the night to execute a rescue mission without an ounce of sleep.
Once upon a time, Cornelius might’ve wondered why Watt had kept looking for him after all this time.
Why the man hadn’t turned back and left Cornelius for dead, like he’d promised he would all those months ago. But now, he knew.
Cornelius’ head throbbed in time with his pulse, as did his leg.
He was fairly certain something vital had torn in his knee and ankle, it was a different sort of pain than what normally wreaked havoc on his leg.
Hot and sharp, growing furiously when put under weight or through movement.
A concussion was likely as well, but he wasn’t sure.
His mind had been playing tricks on him long before the river had swept him away.
Watt was preparing to sling the monstrosity of vine and stone directly at Cornelius, so he pushed himself to his feet, shifting most of his weight to his good leg.
He braced himself to dodge as best he could, and was temporarily distracted by how Watt looked.
Two images collided in his mind, that of a rancher lassoing cattle and a Scot winding up for the hammer toss.
Watt hurtled the rock towards him, startling Cornelius into action.
It made it a third of the way across the stream before thunking into the water. Watt frowned, and reeled it in.
He threw it again, and again. Cornelius deflated after a half dozen attempts, his chill giving way to heat beneath the rising sun. Eventually, Watt lost the rock to the current and was forced to give up. Cornelius shouted, “Take a break!”
Watt’s face twisted with frustration, and he shook his head with such violence Cornelius thought he’d break his own neck.
A ragged shout clawed out of Watt, the force of which broke through the water and fractured Cornelius’ heart.
Watt dropped to his knees and dug his fists into the ground, bowing his head.
Cornelius’ stomach, already tormented by hunger, filled with bile. He’d previously accepted his fate, marooned on this island and lost to anyone who might’ve cared to find him. But Watt had brought hope with him, reigniting the base desire all creatures had.
'I must live.'
Cornelius straightened as best he could, testing his limbs.
Under normal circumstances he was an excellent swimmer, but malnutrition, dehydration, and exposure were all against him.
But if neither of them could make it across without being sucked into the current and tossed over the falls, then there was only one option.
This thought was sealed by the appearance of an odd visitor, or rather a hundred or so odd visitors.
A kaleidoscope of blue morphos fluttered down the river, bringing with them a light breeze that smelled distinctly of moss.
Cornelius was stunned by the sight, they had not encountered a single butterfly yet during this trip and now there was a whole rabble of them.
Their muddy undersides made their iridescent sky blue wings shine all the brighter, especially beneath the rising sun’s brilliant rays.
The head of the flutter continued right past the crest of the falls, unbothered by the loss of their watery path, and into the sun.
Cornelius caught a glimpse of Watt’s expression through the cloud of fluttering wings, eyes swollen from crying and lips parted with no small bit of wonder. If this moment wasn’t a sign, Cornelius wasn’t sure what was. He had to get to Watt.
The stone tower resided at the tip of the island, leaving only a small rocky shelf all around it.
Cornelius was disappointed he couldn't find a way inside the mysterious construction, the stone was smooth all the way around with no door, only arch shaped windows too high up for him to reach.
Maybe on a day he'd better use of his body, and a ladder.
He was too focused on surviving to think much more about it.
The island's tip overhung the falls, making it the perfect launching point.
Cornelius limped towards the point, and his movements went unnoticed until he slipped and nearly fell into the rapids before he was ready.
Maggie barked in response, and was followed by a shout of protest.
Cornelius looked over his shoulder to see Watt frantically waving his arms and shouting Cornelius’ name, his figure partially blocked by the tail end of the kaleidoscope.
The exact syllables were lost to the wind, but the shape of his name was hard to miss on Watt’s lips.
Cornelius forced a bold smile he didn’t quite feel, and shouted, “I’ll see you down there! ”
He turned back to the task at hand, focusing on the rock at his feet.
He shimmied around the tower, clutching at the rough stone with his stinging fingertips for dear life before making it to the shelf that faced the falls.
His heart pounded in his ears, and exhilaration lightened the pressure in his lungs.
The view was astonishing. Tons upon tons of water rushed on either side of him, crashing to the river below which stretched on for miles upon miles.
Jungle, marshes, galley forests, fields, and eventual cerrado unfurled before him.
He took a moment to soak it all in. Brazil, and all her beauty.
All the things she had already given Cornelius.
Friends. Adventure. Peace. But most importantly, himself.
If he died, drowned or otherwise, at least his heart was whole again and his soul was at ease.
There wasn’t much room for a running start, so without much ado Cornelius shoved off the pillar, launching himself into the falls.
His dive was by no means graceful, but no bones broke when he made an impact with the water.
He crashed through the surface like a damned sturgeon, sinking deep beneath the tumultuous curtain.
There was nothing but water in every direction, the unexpected depth bode well for his landing but not for kicking off bottom.
Pain rocketed through his entire body as he kicked, pedaling an imaginary bicycle that would not lift him no matter how hard he pulled and pushed at the river with his hands.
Every time the surface was within reach, the waterfall's curtain shoved him back under. He couldn’t get away from it, stuck in place as if forced there by a magnet.
In fact, his efforts were so futile that he couldn’t maintain a vertical position. He began to sink.
The light from above dimmed, and Cornelius’ lungs ached with the sudden urge to cough.
Panic exploded in his heart, and a sensation flashed over his body like the worst cold chill he’d ever felt, but with all the heat of the sun.
His limbs weakened, refusing to cooperate with his will.
His body began to convulse with the need to expel his lungs. This was it. He was going to drown. He—
A familiar hand slapped against his knuckles. Then his fingertips. Cornelius forced all his remaining energy into reaching. They slipped and searched for each other, and a sob crashed through Cornelius’ defenses protecting his lungs. He began to choke, and his muscles spasmed with the intrusion.
Arms interlocked, fingers digging into flesh with a bruising surety. A second of relief overwhelmed everything else, even the water overfilling his lungs.
His arm was promptly yanked out of its socket, the pain sudden and fierce but secondary to his lungs, leg, and head. To everything, really.
By the time they broke the surface, Cornelius’ vision had given way to darkness, and consciousness was only a thread of an idea. What he did remember, later, was the vague impression of hard ground, and Watt sobbing.
He did not remember powerful thrusting of hands upon breastbone and the way his sternum creaked, or how Watt briefly paused before releasing a string of curses followed by, “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.”
He was not aware of Watt slicing his shirt and bandeau down the middle, or the tears crashing onto his bare chest. When hands met breastbone again, they pumped with an efficiency that broke bones in an effort to reach Cornelius’ heart.
After a pause, air was forced down his throat in two long bursts.
Water escaped his lungs and chased after the reviving lips, bubbling out of Cornelius like a spring.
He coughed, hacking until there was nothing left to do but retch.
Finally, and with great difficulty, Cornelius breathed. It hurt like hell, and the pain was enough to bring him back under. He took hold of consciousness by the throat, stealing a look at his savior before passing out.
Watt stared down at him, soaking wet and glistening beneath the morning sun.
He was tauter than a bowstring, his thick brows furrowed together and his eyes pinched by harsh lines.
A lush canopy framed one side of him, and a cloudless sky accentuated the other.
It was more colors more than anything else, out of focus compared to the sheer detail and familiar landmarks in Watt’s face.
“You’re beautiful.” Cornelius tried.
While it was long and mostly incoherent, Watt seemed to get the gist of it.
He relaxed, if only a fraction. “And you’re impossible, Cornelius Sawyer. Damned impossible.” He bent down awkwardly, pressing a kiss to Cornelius’ forehead. “Thank God you’re alright. I—oh, your shirt. I—I had to—here.”
Watt took off his shirt and draped it over Cornelius' chest, only to find he'd already fallen asleep.