Chapter 30, Day 51 – 52: In the Eye of the Beholder
Fathom woke up feeling much better, though he voiced some irritation at Pryce insisting on recording his vital signs.
“I am better, why do you need to do this?” He asked impatiently.
“You are not much better, and I am doing this so I learn how fast you get better, then I know how fast dragons get better after being sick,” Pryce said, not for the first time. He ignored the rest of the dragon’s protests and looked at the data; Fathom was swiftly returning to more reasonable numbers; it seemed his fever was mostly over.
Fathom watched warily as Pryce prepared another dose of medicine.
“I do not need to take medicine, I am better,” he insisted.
“If you stop taking antibiotics after you start feeling better the fever will come back and you will probably die,” Pryce scolded. “Take your medicine.”
Fathom reluctantly obeyed, shuddering as he drank the familiar concoction.
“How much do your wounds hurt?” Pryce asked when Fathom had finished.
“Better, but still hurts.”
“How many days until you think you can climb down to the beach?” Pryce asked. “I want to take things from the ship like food, but I need your help.”
Fathom perked up upon hearing the last part, and Pryce belatedly realized he probably should not have mentioned that.
“Food like soup?” Fathom asked hopefully, confirming his suspicions.
“Yes, food like soup,” Pryce sighed, “But don’t tell me you can go soon like today, or I won’t go until ten days from now.”
Fathom closed his mouth, having evidently been about to do just that. “…Five…days?” He said, looking at Pryce sidelong to see how this answer would be taken.
“Okay, that’s good. I’ll take out your stitches in five days.”
“I can fly in five days?” Fathom asked skeptically, glancing at his chain-bound limb.
“Oh no, sorry, I mean most of the stitches in your body, not wings,” Pryce amended, making Fathom’s spines fall slightly in disappointment. “How long does it take for dragon wing-bones to heal?”
Fathom shrugged awkwardly. “Maybe thirty days for bone to not move, sixty days for bone to be strong? Dragon bones almost never break, only wing bones sometimes break. How long does it take for human bones to heal?” Fathom asked curiously.
“Same, thirty to sixty days, sometimes bad breaks take longer,” Pryce said, then paused. “Do dragons have a word for thirty days? Is it a moon?”
“Yes, word is like word for ‘moon’. What is human word for this?”
“One month,” Pryce answered. It wasn’t surprising that dragons would have the same concept, it was pretty obvious after all. “What do dragons think the moon is?” Pryce asked curiously.
“We don’t know,” Fathom said simply.
“You…don’t know?” That was odd, all sorts of ancient cultures had explanations for what the moon was.
“It glow like weak sun, but look like rock, and sometimes it change color. It is very strange,” Fathom said, then paused. “I am tired, but you can explain this later, yes?” He asked, seemingly excited and drowsy at the same time.
“Yes, of course I can,” Pryce grinned.
Fathom rumbled, pleased. He turned to go take a nap, but abruptly stopped to turnaround and ask, “I forgot to ask, why did you leave your book with chronometer?”
“Oh, that’s my journal, I write things I think about in my journal. I thought maybe if I…die, you can give it to another human, and they can…read it to you?” Pryce explained, realizing Fathom may not appreciate this species of defeatism.
But the dragon only tilted his head at this, “You did not die, so you can read this to me now?”
“…No,” Pryce said, remembering the rather embarrassing contents of his ‘final’ message.
“Why? You want me to hear these words, yes?” Fathom asked, blinking in confusion. “You want other humans to read your words to me, but you do not to read your words to me?”
“…Yes?” Pryce said sheepishly.
“I do not understand,” the dragon huffed. “Read words you write for me, and I will…forgive you?” Fathom said experimentally.
“No, no,” Pryce rebuffed, desperately hoping to nip this in the bud. “I went to ship to save your life, you can’t do that,” he protested weakly.
Fathom made a chuffing noise, his spines slowly flared in what Pryce feared was a smile. “Read it to me,” the dragon cajoled, detecting weakness.
“No,” Pryce tried to say firmly.
“Read it to me.”
“No!”
“Read it to me!”
“I am not reading it to you! And weren’t you tired?!”
“…Fly well. Your friend, A. Pryce,” Pryce read, his ears burning with embarrassment as he finished reading his entry.
“I do not know many of these words,” Fathom said, clearly dissatisfied.
“You didn’t ask me to teach you these words, you only asked me to read it to you,” Pryce said, taking what little refuge he could behind this piece of literalism.
“…Okay, I forgive you,” Fathom rumbled, standing up with some difficulty.
“Great,” Pryce said shamefacedly.
Fathom rumbled in amusement, then turned towards his cave before glancing back and saying, “I go to sleep now, friend.”
“Yes, yes,” Pryce said, waving dismissively as he failed to suppress a twitch of a smile.
[JOURNAL ENTRY]Day 51,
Fathom’s vital signs continue to improve, though he insisted that I only measure them once per day. He reports that he feels much better, though he is still lethargic. We didn’t do much today, though Fathom has expressed that he wishes to learn what humans know about the moon.
The scaly bastard also coerced me to read the last journal entry I wrote before leaving for The Horizon, but in exchange he’s forgiven me for my slight against him. Fair enough, I suppose.
He has since spent the rest of the day napping, and I hunted one of the strange hexapedal deer-like creatures that I saw yesterday; it must have separated from the herd and wandered up the mountain. This animal has strange flaps of skin on its lower back that appears to be capable of opening up, revealing a sort of white tuft; perhaps it’s for attracting a mate or for communicative purposes[2].
I wish I had the globe with me, but I can make do with the things I have on hand.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Vitals signs, sunrise of Day 51: Respiratory rate: 7 bpm
Temperature: 30.75 degrees[3]
Major HR: 35 bpm
Upper minor HR: 6 bpm
Lower minor HR: 6 bpm
Hydrogen HR: 5 bpm
Pupil dilation: Responsive
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