The Harmony Silk Factory

“What on earth do you mean?” I laughed.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “The trees, the streams — everything seems perfect but wrong. It feels as if we could live here forever and yet. . oh I don’t know.”

“I expect you’re still exhausted after the storm — and everything else,” I said. He looked better now, and his humour had improved immeasurably. He looked fit again, walking ahead of me on the cool, damp forest trails. His eyes were shadowed by dark circles of fatigue, it was true, but his limbs had recovered their litheness, and his stride was calm and steady.

“I don’t like the sea,” he said. “I can’t swim.”

“I can certainly testify to that.”

“Last thing I remember,” he said, turning to look at me with a faint smile, “you weren’t doing so well yourself.”

“Oh, the cheek of it!” I cried as we negotiated a slippery uphill path. “The cheek of it, the cheek of it. I was enjoying standing on the deck. Don’t you know the laws of physics don’t apply to me? I would have withstood anything that storm could have thrown at me. Like Idomeneo, I would have survived even if we had been shipwrecked. My catlike reflexes would have seen me through — but no, you came hurtling towards me, determined to spoil the moment.”

“Sorry.” He laughed. “You were whimpering like a madman. What was I supposed to think?”

“I wasn’t whimpering, my dear boy, I was singing.”

“Sounded like whimpering to me.” As he turned to look at me he stumbled on a small rock; his foot scraped a long angry scar on the mud as he slipped and fell, landing heavily on his right elbow.

“Good God, are you alright?” I said, crouching by him. “You haven’t twisted your ankle, have you?”

“No, it’s my shoulder that hurts,” he said, breathing heavily. He cradled his arm to his body as if it were a dying animal. “Funny — I must have landed awkwardly.”

“Look at you: how are the mighty fallen. This wouldn’t have happened if you’d had my mountain goat’s agility,” I said. “Come on, we’d better head back to the camp.”

“No, I’m alright. We must try and find a good supply of fresh water. It’s important.”

“You don’t look in any state to continue,” I said firmly. He was still sitting on the muddy path, shaken and weak once more.

“I’ll manage,” he said, raising a smile. “Besides, Kunichika and Honey are out on a search too, and we don’t want them to beat us to it.”

I laughed. “That’s a good point, but not good enough for you to go charging off. You should be back in camp nursing a stiff drink.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “I want to continue.” The familiar flash of stubbornness returned to his eyes, but his arm was still held awkwardly, as if any movement of it might cause pain.

“How about this for a compromise?” I said. “I’ll go on a quick reconnaissance, just till the brow of that next hill. If I do see something I’ll come back for you, otherwise we shall head straight back to camp.”

He looked dubious but nodded solemnly. “Look carefully, Peter,” he said as I set off. “There’s water nearby, I can sense it.”

“Yes, yes,” I called as I strode away. Of course I had every intention of dashing quickly to the top of the hill and then returning with the disappointing news that no stream had crossed my path. The terrain proved to be more difficult than I expected, however. The trail soon disappeared in a tangle of roots and foliage, and though I managed to regain it, sometime later it vanished again, washed away by recent rains. The trees closed in around me, the broken cover of leaves becoming a thick canopy. I did not panic, but kept moving in a straight line. I had fixed the position of the next hill in my mind’s eye, and trusted my instincts to find my way there; not once did I feel that I was cut off from Johnny.