Stranded on a Tiny Planet

Sick

Pixie had slept peacefully in the warmth and safety of Merco's pocket until early morning when she was awakened suddenly by a violent shaking from the giant's body. She opened her eyes fast just as the tremor subsided. The cloth surrounding her wasn't dry anymore and the heat radiating from him was noticeable. Sometime during the night, he had rolled to his side and his pocket had become a hammock against his wall of a chest. Behind that wall she could still hear the pounding of his heart, but it was faster now; not relaxed. She poked her head out and could see his face which didn't appear serene but knit with pain and distress. He shivered again, his flesh vibrating her to the point of discomfort. It subsided again and slowly he began to awaken.

...

Merco could barely open his eyes come morning. His body chilled and shook as the sledgehammer in his head pounded away. He had his jacket piled under his head for a pillow, but the ground was less than comfortable and the burning pain in his head never ceased, so sleep had not been forthcoming. He gingerly touched his head and cringed as a bolt of pain seemed to crackle like electricity across it. It felt hot to the touch. Infected. He closed his eyes dismally, knowing he had no medicine nor any expertise to seek out the local plant life for some sort of relief. In time the wound would grow more septic and being a head wound it would hit his brain first, killing him.

"What a way to go. Dying slowly of sepsis on an alien planet. So much for trying to survive by my wits. A stupid head wound is going to be my death blow." He thought miserably.

Merco painfully pushed himself up into a sitting position. It felt like he weighed one thousand pounds. His head spun, sending a wave of nausea over him. The heat...it was so hot. No...that was the infection burning through his body. Not to mention the uncomfortable, pasty scratch of thirst clawed at his throat. He smacked his dry lips unpleasantly, realizing there wasn't any water here. If he wanted water, he'd have to trek back to that lake...a daunting task given how he felt.

"Merco?" Pixie's tiny concerned voice came from his pocket.

He glanced down at the plumed lavender head peeking out at him and managed a smile, "Hey there, Pixie. Sleep well?"

She blinked up at him, her blue eyes conveying concern.

"Guess I'm not feeling so good today." He said groggily, "Need to find some water."

Protectively, he held his hand over his pocket to prevent Pixie from falling out as he stood up. It wasn't easy and vertigo swirled his senses violently when he rose. He staggered back unsteadily trying to wait out the dizziness and correct his bearings. Slowly he regained balance, but the weakness was consuming his energy fast. He retrieved his spear stick, leaning against it as a walking stick. He looked around and saw the familiar rock formation in the distance and knew the lake was angled to the left a bit further. With slow steps he began walking back.

He looked down at Pixie guiltily, "Sorry, Pixie. I know I said we'd find your family today, but I need water. Once I get a drink we can start looking again, ok?"

She obviously didn't understand his explanation, but it made him feel a bit better to say it aloud. Hopefully, he could keep his promise.

...

Pixie knew something was definitely wrong with her giant caregiver. Despite how big and intimidating he was, the weakness he was exhibiting was palpable. His face was marked with a pained expression and his movements felt forced and jerky. She wanted to ask him what was wrong but knew they wouldn't be able to communicate that. What she did know was he didn't look well.

Nearly a nublar had passed and Merco's impossible strides became slower; his steps more stumbled. Pixie could feel his huge breaths become more pronounced against her back. She looked up at him only to see his eyelids drooping and his brow shining with sweat.