Chapter 3 #3
There was a point when I thought I’d mark the day by the movement of the sun, but then in the next thought, I figured that time literally makes no difference anymore.
The path under my feet falls away, and in the next instant, I’m in water so cold it steals my breath. The sensation of free falling brings back my awareness, something that has obviously been missing for a while.
“Shit,” I whisper, looking down, my thoughts clear for the first time in a long while.
I have no clue where I am and how I got here, but I still have the bag bundled in my arms, though I have no memory of the past few hours. I sink down exhausted, not remembering I’m in a stream until the freezing water is slicing through my fatigue once again.
My clothes are wet, my shoes are too, but it’s the sudden realization that my backpack is still on that has me stumbling to my feet.
The bank I dropped from into the water is within easy reach and sits like a shelf; it’s honestly lucky I didn’t snap or sprain my ankle.
The first thing I put down is the bag carrying the injured animal.
Next, I undo the straps of both backpacks, and the relief makes me sag down, tears tracking down my face.
Admittedly, any small movement now ricochets pain through my body.
I have a moment. It’s loud and messy, but it’s over as soon as it starts.
“Are you finished?” I ask, chiding myself over my breakdown.
After spending so long lost in my head with nothing but delirium and agony keeping me company, hearing words out loud actually helps bring clarity to the moment. A lot. Being responsible for something other than myself does too.
I shuffle back over to where I left everything. I still feel pretty shitty having a meltdown, especially since the poor creature in the bag must be feeling much worse than me.
Under the moonlight, I can make out little eyes staring up at me.
I lift him out of the bag, and a couple of crushed blueberries fall free from his fur.
I vaguely remember chewing them up before pushing them into his mouth, hoping he’d stay alive if he had food in his stomach.
He doesn’t even have the energy to tuck his legs up, so I scoop a hand under his butt and cradle him to my side.
“I’m sorry if you’re modest, but we’re going to have a little wash.
I want to get all this muck off you, and then I promise I’ll find us somewhere safe to sleep.
In my bag I’ve got some food to share, but we need to get you cleaned up.
This might suck, by the way, but afterward, you’ll feel so much better. ”
I find a flat rock where the stream is only an inch or two deep, then keeping the little guy feeling as safe as possible, I cup my hand to wash him down. I sing softly, trying to keep him calm. It takes a while until the water runs clear.
Now that he’s wet, I want to say he looks like a bear cub, but I can’t trust myself too much given how tired I am.
Using one of my clean hoodies, I wrap him up, leaving him in his warm bundle while I put my bags back on. I don’t even bother trying to stop my tears as they fall; the weight of my bags is excruciating now.
With everything back in place, I lift him up. His eyes are closed, and I shove my hand inside to triple-check he’s breathing. The rise and fall of his chest is shallow, but it’s there. He’s snuggly warm, too, which I take as a good sign.
Looking around, I scout for a place to sleep. I know I’m meant to keep walking until sunup, but I’m past my limits. It’s lucky we fell in the stream, and not off the side of a cliff. Honestly, it truly spooks me how I didn’t know what I was doing.
I stick to the edge of the stream, driven by paranoia and exhaustion. I know I don’t have the physical strength or mental coordination to climb up the steep embankment. Also, I stay in the water because if anyone is looking for me, the path I’ve taken and my scent will be lost in the water.
It feels like I walk for miles and miles—maybe I do actually travel that far—until I find a place that looks good for us sit and rest, if only for a few hours.
Balancing on the stones, with each step I take up the side of the gully seeming like it takes an eternity, eventually we make it to the small cave.
And it’s actually perfect. The front is smaller than the cavern it hides, but it will keep the wind out, so hopefully we won’t freeze to death.
And being a little higher off the ground, I’m also hoping nothing eats us.
Sitting my bundle down, I kick at the ground until it’s free from rocks and is nice and flat, and then I use my bags to make a little wall for us to hide behind. Resting with my back against the wall, I dig inside to find some food.
I wake the rescued animal up, making him drink some water, and I also mash some of my food up and feed him tiny little morsels until he refuses to open his mouth again.
Before I can even try to make him take more, he’s back asleep.
So I curl around him, hoping to keep him warm and protected all night long.