I opened up the pitcher plant, and pulled Gg Kk up by his shoulders.
"Let's have a look at you, then."
His head-wound had healed, and the biodegradable stitching had dissolved away like old writing on a clean palimpsest. Only a slight scar remained. He was, once again, ready to be made literate.
I asked Gg Kk to do a quick march around to show off his new ambulation. Fine ambulation: if I had been judge, I would have rated it quite highly in a beauty pageant or a best dog at the show award. It looked like Gg Kk was cured, which meant we were ready to continue on.
We looked around what remained of the camp site. There was no trace of Doctor Jj or Dak Ulu, and I couldn't find the tent that Dak had been carrying. That was a shame. It had been warm enough inside the pitcher plant, but as we continued, we were probably going to need some sort of cover, or even say a tarpaulin.
One of the burnt jungle paths lead to a clearing, which I remembered as the origin of the Flingellan firecracker. We followed the path.
This is a five-minute freewrite based on the prompt the smell from within.
It is a continuation; previous instalments can be found at part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 and part 5.
In other news, I have just started a choose-your-own adventure where the character's actions are chosen by you, the readers and commenters. If you think this is an interesting idea, please check it out at A Computer-based Interactive Fiction For You and Your Friends.
