The Bug in The Cave

Chapter 7:Delivery Bug

Thorax spent some more time in the cave with Twilight, periodically stepping out to gather more of the materials needed for his tea. Twilight found herself fading in and out of consciousness during those times, her body eager for some actual sleep now that the symptoms were decreased. She still felt like absolute garbage, but at least now she could think clearly and had a modest amount of control over her own body and its waste disposal functions.

In the interim, Thorax answered a few basic questions Twilight had; how he made his tea, where she could find food, if there were other reliable sources of water nearby. Pretty much anything her foggy mind could think of that would be of help to her in surviving this blasted wasteland. Thorax had not disappointed her, answering each of her questions in remarkable detail.

It was still strange to Twilight, thinking about just how much the changeling was helping her. What did he stand to gain? What was his end goal? Was he just being friendly, or was there some ulterior motive she hadn’t yet been able to decipher? More than once had she tried to form words to ask these questions, but her own weakness had, more often than not, left her unable to finish her questions in any way Thorax could understand.

Eventually, though, what little strength she had began to fade, and she fell into a light, restless slumber. She wasn’t sure how long she was out for, but when she awoke, she found that the fire had long since burned down to little more than smoldering lumps of charred wood, and the glow coming from beyond the cave mouth had darkened considerably. The various supplies that Thorax had brought were leaned up against the far wall from Twilight, neatly arranged in an aesthetically pleasing manner.

Slowly, and still struggling with the putrid feelings in her gut, Twilight sat up on her haunches and looked around some more, searching for Thorax. But there was no sign of him in the cave. Twilight swallowed heavily, a bead of anxiety forming in her heart. “T-thorax?” she called out before falling into a coughing fit. Her throat was dry. She needed water.

Moving quickly, she dropped a few planks of wood from her stockpile onto the fire pit and lit it ablaze with a spark of magic from her horn. As the warmth and light of the rapidly swelling blaze filled the cavern, Twilight staggered over to the pool in the back, bringing along the chiseled bowl.

In short order, she had some water set to boil, giving her some time to look around and figure out what was happening. Cautiously, she dragged herself over to the edge of the cave and peered outside. The sun had set some time ago, and the moon had risen to bathe the world in its pale glow.

Twilight licked her lips. “Thorax? Are you out there?” she called out again, putting as much power into her voice as she could manage.

Nothing answered her, though, save for the distant hooting of a desert owl.

Twilight stood still for several moments before deciding to head back inside, her stomach gurgling in protest. She was still sick, after all. Sighing, she set herself down in front of the fire, her eyes locked onto the blaze.

Had Thorax left her? She supposed it made sense. He wasn’t going to be around all the time. He had a home, after all. A ‘Hive’ as he had called it if she was remembering correctly. Considering those other changelings she had seen him with the first time they had met, it seemed likely that he was their subordinate. If so, then him heading back home was probably for the best.

Though that still left the question of why he had bothered to help her in the first place. She didn’t exactly have anything to offer him in turn, save for boundless gratitude at having saved her life. He may have done it twice, actually, helping tend to her injury and keep it from getting infected.

Her hoof drifted to hover over where the gash in her barrel had been, and she winced as phantom pains tingled along her side. She still remembered with an odd mixture of disgust and fascination how the resin had felt against her fur. She had eventually pulled it off like a bandage when her injury had healed, not wanting the extra weight while trudging through the desert.