Early in the morning Pryce prodded Fathom awake and gave him another dose, as promised. Afterwards he convinced the dragon to let him measure his vitals, much to his reluctance.
> Vitals signs, sunrise of Day 44:
>
> Respiratory rate: 7 bpm
> Temperature: 32.33 degrees[1]
> Major HR: 40 bpm
> Upper minor HR: 7.5 bpm
> Lower minor HR: 7.5 bpm
> Hydrogen HR: 5 bpm
> Pupil dilation: Responsive
Pryce frowned at these values; they had risen significantly. Of course, Fathom was awake now, so that was expected, but his temperature was worrying Pryce.
“How do you feel? Warm?”
“Hot,” Fathom said, breathing with his jaws slightly parted.
Pryce sighed and told Fathom to sit still while he ferried cold mountain water over him.
“Better?” He asked after what felt like the better part of an hour.
“A little better…thank you,” Fathom mumbled almost inaudibly. At least his manners were improving.
“Does your head hurt? Feel strange?”
“Head hurt some, feel…like fur?” Fathom tried explaining. “How do you know this?”
“Your head feels fuzzy, humans are like that too when we get sick. You have a fever, that means your body is warmer than normal.”
“You use human tools, measure my body temperature? How much is it?”
“Yes,” Pryce said, glad he had explained all this earlier. “Your lowest body temperature I measured was 31.45 degrees Centragrade, the temperature I measured this morning was the highest at 32.33 degrees.”
“This is very small difference,” Fathom snorted, or tried to; he only produced a sort of weak huff.
“Body temperature is very important,” Pryce warned. “Healthy human body temperature is 29.9 to 30.8 degrees Centragrade, if body temperature is more than 33.1 degrees this is bad, if body temperature is more than 34.75 degrees this is very very bad, human heads get permanent damage, and humans maybe die. Permanent is when thing does not go away, like scars.”
“My body feels hotter than difference of 0.88 degrees,” Fathom said stubbornly despite his weakness.
“It’s probably more, because I did not measure your temperature when you were healthy,” Pryce explained, blinking at the exact value. “Your body feels much hotter because being a little bit hot is very bad for your body, so your body wants you to be colder.”
“Body can want things?” Fathom asked tiredly, weakly twitching his spines in confusion.
“A little bit?” Pryce said, rolling his hand in an uncertain gesture. “It is complicated.”
Fathom rumbled and slowly stood up on shaking limbs, much to Pryce’s surprise.
“What are you doing? You’re going to open your wounds!” Pryce cried.
“Small river water is cold, I go sit in it,” Fathom grunted.
“That…is a good idea,” Pryce said, embarrassed that he didn’t think of this idea sooner. Fathom risked opening his wounds, but the fever was at a dangerous 32.33 degrees, which was likely more dangerous than the possibility of torn stitches. Fathom had already moved around a little without opening anything, so the risk was worth it in Pryce’s judgment. “Just don’t get the bandages wet,” he warned. They were mostly water resistant, but they weren’t meant to soak in a river all day.
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Pryce was very careful when he stepped outside the caves to hunt, he peered around with his head close to the ground and moved side to side to try and see any hidden raptors. He saw none, but that didn’t mean he could let his guard down; there also might be other well-camouflaged creatures around that Fathom forgot to mention.
Eventually he took up position on top of a small cliff and waited for a few hours until a small six-legged but otherwise nondescript rock-colored lizard wandered into view. It was large enough to make several meals for Pryce, but he would have liked to get something fresh for Fathom to eat.
Pryce noticed something in the skies and saw it was a large avian, probably a meter or more in length. The sky-blue bird-like creature swooped down behind the lizard and picked it off the ground with shocking speed.
He moved to a more secure position after that, but many hours later he was forced to give up and go back to give Fathom another dose of antibiotics.
“You did not hunt anything?” Fathom asked, cracking open a tired eyelid from his place in the river. Pryce noted that his skin had tightened up again, and the scales were sitting flush against his body, which was probably a good sign.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“No, I only saw a small lizard, and the small lizard got eaten by a blue bird.”
“Blue birds are rare,” Fathom said with mild surprise, though he closed his eyes afterwards.
“Don’t go back to sleep, you need to drink more antibiotics,” Pryce said as he prepared the solution.
“Antibiotics taste bad,” Fathom nearly whined. “I do not feel better, why do you make me drink it?”
“Antibiotics take two or three days to work, now drink,” Pryce answered mercilessly.
After forcing the dragon to take his medicine, Pryce measured his vitals again, much to Fathom’s annoyance.
> Vitals signs, noon of Day 44:
>
> Respiratory rate: 6.5 bpm
> Temperature: 32.01 degrees[2]
> Major HR: 42 bpm
> Upper minor HR: 7 bpm
> Lower minor HR: 7 bpm
> Hydrogen HR: 5 bpm
> Pupil dilation: Responsive
Pryce breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the lowered temperature. The other vital signs were higher, but they weren’t nearly as dangerous as an excessive body temperature.
After this checkup he went back out to hunt for something that Fathom could eat. It was frustrating that he couldn’t go into the forest without undue risk to his life, but within a few hours he was rewarded with the sight of a lizard, roughly two-and-a-half meters long and brilliant blue. It was just as Fathom described; 6 limbs, somewhat lizard-like in appearance with a powerful looking jaw.
A well-placed shot through its neck killed it instantly, allowing him to bring it back home…which was much easier said than done. It took a long time to drag the eighty-odd-kilograms of lizard, and Pryce regretted not bringing a pulley all the while as he grunted, heaved, and swore whenever the lizard slid back down a slope. But eventually he did get it to the cave, collapsing as soon as he finished his task.
Pryce roasted a haunch of the lizard’s leg. Fortunately, this creature didn’t seem to have the exceptional toughness of gryphons or dragons and wasn’t difficult to butcher. He sampled a small piece first in case it was poisonous to humans; its flavor was quite good, and the texture was something reminiscent of a crocodile – a cross between fish and chicken. Pryce added some salt and set the haunch aside in an empty ration bag for later, once he had confirmed it wasn’t poisonous.
The smell had attracted Fathom, who slowly padded into the cave so as to not aggravate any of his healing woods.
“I cannot stay in water forever,” Fathom said reasonably, water still dripping from his body as Pryce glared at him for straining his wounds. He wasn’t wrong, but Pryce was still nettled at having his prognosis defied.
“Do you want me to cook it, or are you just going to eat it raw, like this?” He asked, gesturing to the corpse.
“I eat now,” Fathom said, moving forward with short, pained steps.
“Stop, you shouldn’t walk so much, just stay in the cave with the river next time,” Pryce chided, stepping in front of Fathom to block his path.
“I can walk a little distance,” Fathom hissed indignantly.
“I don’t have any more things to make stitches!” Pryce warned, stepping over the lizard to stare Fathom in the eyes. “Please don’t make your wounds worse. If you rip yourself open, I can’t do anything to help you if you do.”
Fathom glared down at him, breathing heavily, then slowly sat down.
Pryce spent a minute laboriously dragging the lizard towards the dragon, who watched the human work with a mulish expression.
“Here,” Pryce gasped, dropping the lizard’s tail. Fathom stared down at the blue lizard, then huffed as he looked at Pryce who was panting on his hands and knees.
“…I am sorry, you do much work to help me. It is bad for a dragon to need help, so I…do not like you giving me help,” Fathom admitted, looking off to the side as he said this.
“I understand, some humans like that too,” Pryce said after recovering his breath. “Sometimes sick humans don’t want help, even if they need it. Sometimes they die.”
“Sounds like there are many types of humans,” Fathom rumbled before digging into the lizard, and Pryce could not disagree.
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Fathom returned to nap in the river after finishing his meal and taking his medicine. Pryce had asked if he was hungry, but the dragon said he was not feeling well, and that he could not eat any more.
Pryce measured the temperature of the river’s water out of curiosity, and saw that it was a cool 6.50 degrees Centragrade[3]. The river was perhaps thigh-deep, and Fathom’s density so low that he could not sink very much even if the water were deeper, but it was still odd that he could sit on top of cold water all day. Pryce supposed it was the insulating effect of the scales protecting Fathom from losing too much heat.
He occupied himself with writing in his journal and making notes of various things he noticed. The plants and sparse trees were of different species than the ones he was familiar with, of course, but still very similar to the trees he knew, at least on the surface. He wasn’t much of an arborist, but he did collect a few cuttings to place into his bags.
Soon the sun began to set, and Pryce woke Fathom to take his medicine and to get his vitals measured.
> Vitals signs, sunset of Day 44:
>
> Respiratory rate: 6 bpm
> Temperature: 31.78 degrees[4]
> Major HR: 43 bpm
> Upper minor HR: 6.5 bpm
> Lower minor HR: 6.5 bpm
> Hydrogen HR: 5 bpm
> Pupil dilation: Responsive
Fathom slipped into the subterranean river after Pryce measured his vital signs. He seemed fatigued by his fever, though he did say he felt better.
It was a great relief for Pryce to see Fathom’s body temperature falling back down towards normal levels. The purpose of a fever was to make the body hot enough to be inhospitable to foreign invaders, but too much heat would also damage the body. Artificially lowering body heat would normally risk allowing the pathogens to spread throughout the body somewhat unchecked, but the doses of antibiotics would fix that problem.
Pryce rested well that night, lulled to sleep by the trickling sounds of the river that echoed off the cave walls.
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> [JOURNAL ENTRY]
>
> Fathom’s temperature has gone down throughout the day, as listed above. I began administering the antibiotic at the end of day 43, so I should begin to see effects by day 45 – tomorrow night.
>
> Once the infection is cured, all Fathom has to do is to heal, and it might be a month or two, but I think he’s finally out of danger. My chief concerns are now food; Fathom can’t hunt in his condition, and he only has so much smoked meat, so the rest is up to me. I have 60 rounds (59 after hunting a blue lizard today), which should be enough to last until Fathom is well enough to hunt on land, even if he cannot fly.
>
> I’m not sure how much he eats; I should ask him tomorrow. The fever has definitely diminished his appetite. I’ve had to encourage him to eat despite the fact that he’s had very little food since his battle three days ago.
>
> At most, I can drag an animal of around maybe 80 kg, and that takes a great effort. Unfortunately, I don’t have a pulley, and even if I did have one there’s nowhere for me to affix it to. The only thing I can think of is to maybe wrap the rope around a stalagmite to function as a primitive pulley. It doesn’t sound very feasible, and I don’t have much rope, but it may be worth a try.