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Back 3 a.m.
Chapters (67)
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  67. 3:46 a.m.

Lassie and I sit on the sand behind him, watching in rapt silence.

Meow.

“I have no idea. Maybe we are supposed to eat them? Maybe it’s like kale.”

The thought of kale conjures the image of Ingrid. I wonder where she is. If she’s alive, had she given up hope that I am alive? Was she back at our apartment in Alexandria? Had she already properly grieved? Was she back at work? Back fighting crime? What would she eat tonight?

Opik tosses what is left of the bush, purple flowers and stems, into the river. He bends down and picks up one of the leaves and dunks it in the water. He crushes it up in his hand. He does this several more times. Then he walks back to us. In his hands he holds a sludge of the green leaves. He eases himself down to his knees, then gingerly holds out his hand to Lassie.

His paw.

Lassie extends his paw with a whimper.

Opik wraps the green leaves around his foot one by one until it has disappeared into a thick cocoon of green.

When he is finished, he holds onto Lassie’s paw and says a couple words.

He stands up and disappears.

He is still gone when I lie down to fall asleep.

:10

June 27th

Sunrise 3:15 a.m.

A feast surrounds us when we wake. Fish, berries, and nuts in several different varieties.

Opik is twenty feet from us, sleeping on the sand.

I push Lassie off my chest and stand up.

I cock my head to the side.

Something is different.

I feel different than I had the previous five days.

My eyebrows furrow.

The itching.

I’m not itching.

I look down at my clothes. They are covered in a white powder. So are my hands. I wipe at my face. It too is covered in the white powder.

I smile.

Whatever it is, it has warded off the mosquitos for the past twenty-three hours.

I amble to where Opik is sleeping and gently rock him.

He opens his eyes.

“Hi.”

He smiles.

“Thank you for the powder,” I say, pointing to my clothes and smiling.

He wraps his hand around his throat.

“Right, makes them choke.”

I help him to his feet and we eat from the pile he has foraged. He checks on Lassie’s foot, which according to Lassie, feels better. Opik makes another wrap with the leftover leaves. While he rewraps Lassie’s paw, I point up the river and make walking feet with my fingers.

He nods.

At 3:07 a.m. we pack up camp and head out.

We make good time for the next fifty minutes, then find a place to lie down on the sandbar. Lassie and Opik disappear into the brush. I’m not sure, nor do I care, what the twosome do while I sleep, as long as they come back with food and magical-mosquito-choking powder.

And they do.