He likes how Sen Po helps him think. Slick with fever-sweat Hedrag flipped. He could feel the sheets bunched between his legs, pulled taunt across his shoulder, slack at his feet. But that feeling began to fade as his dream-state was regained.
Whenever he’s clear-headed and led to question things physical by illness he must inquire into his body’s state by exercising.. Bubbles nearly yet made amorphous by their momentum –shapes slithered in a spacious linear pattern. Counter to them was a harness strapped to Hedrag’s back. He propelled over a rise in the ground and hurt his eyes looking at the sun beyond. Past the greasy layers of tense ocean membrane that sloshed above him there was a bloom of brilliance. To avoid that sight-strainer he pushed his head down-tilt. Surging towards him from below in gloom
coughs communicated with Hedrag. Shunted breath comforted. Attention to physical details was stirring but his mind fought it. Those sensations were going away…
for a second time Hedrag was having the first dream told of here until | it had heard Hedrag. Its’ restrained posture shattered into fleeting forelimbs. In the time he took spinning those claws and jaws were nearly into Hedrag. His legs smashed into the building crust of snow like mortar shells in much-chewed earth. Granules mashed with snow. The trail Hedrag left was spattered with dirt from where he had earlier stood. Though his pants (which did crescendo) could still not supply necessary respiration Hedrag ran. An asthma attack came. Choked, he stumbled into bark and nearly against his fat was a spindly set of paws.
What didn’t make itself can’t unmake itself. It tried. Hedrag’s mind could not keep such dreams away. Room windows left open to lower the fever allowed whatever the wind carried into Gollsieb(Hedrag’s mother)’s abode; a leaf scraped its’ dry-rolled edge on his back
They dug into his padded hind. Maybe because of his blubber’s thick-shift protection but the feel of claws breaking in Hedrag’s back, beneath epidermis, didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. Spun by that pain-driven beast to face it. A crude shove got the mutt-father off him. Because this wolf came forward Hedrag gave it one on the nose. Heavy scarlet blood spurted out. Growled then charged in again. Backhand lifted its’ forward paws off the ground. Backtread. Stretched front legs and hunched rear legs ready for pouncing. Right foot placed back, torso turned, left shoulder presented, fists up. A drawn out snarl and two barks more before the wolf ran off.
Sen Po is his favorite form of exercise. “…Sen Po class and he just passed out,” Hedrag’s mother “the poor dear. Dubbor is out on business so I left Lisjea with Temin and rushed off to get him” came home “I was so worried when he couldn’t be woken. I was going to call you” with her friend “and cancel but then he woke up and said he just wanted to rest.” from lunch “Has his fever dropped?” while Hedrag slept.
To not respond to physical difficulty by reevaluating physical-spiritual relations Hedrag would eliminate a trait he has had sense conception. The last dream Hedrag had is replaying until…the wolf’s claws are like fire. They don’t sting –they don’t cut. They’re not sharp or prickly but they sear as steam does. Their heat soaks into his chubby exterior. Yet it feels as if Hedrag had sat too long in front of a furnace, swiftly excess warmth flees from his form. Connected wet sand (frozen snow clusters) catch in Hedrag’s throat, rub-burn his cheeks, make ribbon-cuts against his gums, and uncomfortably soak patches of his hair. Battering paws role Hedrag over. Sweaty breath proclaims the jaws coming after it. In time to see a central cut of his throat trail behind the rearing wolf, Hedrag opens his eyes. Larger than the pair that preceded it, the wolf’s third swallow pulls a juicy red sample of Hedrag from the wolf’s back-tossed head into its’ stomach. Canine tongue lashes flesh from fur.
In a way, he would die. . “ihHEE-ug” lets Ms. Dubbor Poma’ort know her son’s up. He scrabbles fabric to free his body. Desperate. Sat up, Hedrag’s eyes resolve twin light-stopping fuzzes into his mom and her friend. “How do you feel honey?” “Better…good enough to get up.” Weak, feeling like his body has a fulcrum at his shins, Hedrag treks to the kitchen in a pause-stagger fashion. Whatever his Mom and her friend mean is incomprehensible noise to Hedrag as he sips water that seeps into cracks in his throat. Grabbing the deck chair gives him the option of sitting in addition to that of falling on it. Wooden chair bars catch Hedrag’s sticky skin between them. Women’s sounds decrescendo poco a poco until Hedrag is shivering alone. There’sn’t enough hair on his body to stop the outdoor chill from tormenting. Careful to keep balanced on his slippery footing, Hedrag moves away from the wood around him. He’s till having trouble seeing. Is something there? Yes…approaching, slightly downhill from his home, Hedrag can see a fat –nearly naked man! Unreasonably sick, he chases this stranger. Hedrag’s eyes stung as he ran, bloodshot and moist. When that man falls Hedrag hits into him (burning with fever) then turns him over to see his face and taste his throat.
Hedrag shakes himself awake. He wonders how he knows…anything>that his sense can be trusted
“I have an answer for Hadrag’s last question; he suffered and endured the flu in torment because didn’t it make part of his life interesting to consider?”-Narrator.
*that’d require a persistent present tense
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