The Story of Us

Chapter 9

I heard a muffled gasp from the bed.

I don't know how, but when you're a nurse you are trained to detect distress and Harry seemed to be very much in that boat.

My eyes snapped open wide. I was concerned because if he died, it was going to be my ass. I wouldn't be able to dig a grave for him and call it a day.

Don't misinterpret! I did not jump to the conclusion he was dying; I just meant he sounded like a sick sheep, and not the cute kind.

"Harry?" I questioned gently, seeing him sit up. It was very early morning; I only know this because there was no light peaking below or above the cave door.

That means I could only see his outline.

In hast of running toward the fire to get it going so I could see, I didn't see Beeja.

I might have soccer balled my poor little chicken across the cave in an effort to get the fire restarted. She screeched, I screamed and then I went about my task to get some light up in this bitch so I could, you know, actually fricken SEE.

Also, since I'm complaining about everything going wrong in my life, Beeja didn't lay any eggs for a few days after. I think it was in disagreement of how us humans were hurting her poor little chicken feelings. What with Harry kicking her at my face and me playing chicken soccer ball; she was plain fed up with our shit and refused to come near us or lay eggs.

I made it up to her so her protest wasn't in vain since it was Harry's fault to begin with, but no use finger pointing.

"Harry? I saw you sit up. When I get this fire started, you better be laying down! You don't want to be putting pressure on your lower extremities." I yelled at him; a bit worried that he was sitting. You'd be surprised the damage you could do.

Harry groaned, but I heard him lay down against his pillow.

"Good boy." I muttered sarcastically, working feverishly to light the fire.

I was still angry because of what happened yesterday. Who KICKS a chicken at someone?

Well – I guess I couldn't say anything. I just did a replay of kicking one across the room. Beeja Queen was most displeased with the sudden uncordial treatment; hence her protest.

Precocious was still laying by my chair undisturbed. He was a lazy cat, let me tell ya. He didn't even investigate the commotion.

Maybe he thought I was killing the chicken to cook for dinner?

Only cat logic will know. Just like only the Brits will know what Harry is saying half the time, because most of it was a hit or miss to my ears.

"I need an aspirin. My head hurts." Harry groaned.

I took my lighting stick and rubbed it on a stone near some dry kindling. It took a few seconds, but it finally began to smoke.

"First, I need to see what's wrong." I replied calmly, getting the flame to grow before throwing a few pieces of firewood on.

"I don't feel well! That's what's wrong!" Harry snapped.

I adjusted the mask on my face, it was becoming like a second skin at that point.

"Alright, Harry. Alright. Calm down, my love. I'm coming over now to check." I Assured him gently. One of us was going to hit the ceiling and if I didn't watch myself, it was going to end up being me.

I stopped just short of the bed when the fire's glow allowed me to lay my eyes on the boy.

He was as white as a sheet. Shit. He would put a vampire-goth to shame. I mean, the guy was REALLY pale.