Malaria
Susan lay on the veranda on a couch, burning and aching and shivering with fever, hot and yet cold, restless and half-asleep. She had a longing to be cared for, looked after, and felt far from home.
After a while she heard the scratching of scaly feet; Biddy was coming carefully up the veranda steps. The hen clucked and fussed around her. Susan heard comforting words, and saw compassion on her face. She touched the warm feathers, feeling reassured and calm.
Through the haze of the fever Susan watched Biddy settle down, fluffing her feathers and preening them into place. As if in a dream she heard her hen-talk.
'You have lost your chicks.' A head bob and a preen.
'They are chk-chk looking for you.' Susan watched the hen cock her head sideways and look down at the floor.
'They need a place that is their own.' Biddy stood up and stretched one leg, then settled again.
'You have cared for our chicks. Care for yours.' And with a few more head-bobs Biddy was finished, and started looking around as if for crumbs.
Susan touched her again and drifted off into a healing sleep.
Some days later when she was a little better she sat looking at the paths winding into the forest, and thinking...
Next chapter Thinking again - the paths
