The next morning I opened my eyes to see Pipsqueak curled up on my chest, fast asleep, and the Lorax once again using me as a pillow. I started coughing, but the little Bar-ba-loot showed no sign of noticing apart from stretching and curling himself up again, and the Lorax continued to snore away. They must have gotten used to it overnight. Looking around, I noticed that the other forest animals had decided to camp out here for the night. I coughed again. I was definitely feeling a lot worse than yesterday. There was no possible way I was getting up within the morning hours, so I closed my eyes and went back to sleep. Another harsh bout of coughing woke me up a second time, although now the small weight was off of my chest and the other Bar-ba-loots, Swomee-Swans, and Humming-Fish had vacated my residence. The Lorax, however, was still there. He was apparently attempting to cook something. Pancakes, I assumed, considering that's all he'd ever watched me make apart from soup, and I highly doubted he'd make that. He had somehow managed to pull a chair over to the stove and was fumbling with the large frying pan, almost falling off of the chair several times before managing to place it on the element.
I shook off the covers and sat on the edge of the mattress, placing a hand on my forehead. My fever had gotten worse overnight. The Lorax must have heard me moving, because he looked back over his shoulder and nearly dropped the large bowl he was holding when he lost his footing on the chair. He somehow managed to land square on his feet without dropping the object that was half his size.
"Hey, Beanpole, 'bout time ya got up," he said.
"Hm," was all I said in answer. I was still tired and feeling rather miserable. He seemed to sense this, and he watched me intently as I stood and found my way over to the sink, wetting a cloth and placing it over my burning forehead. Then I went back to my bed and flopped down. I was half-asleep within minutes, so I hardly noticed when he climbed up on the bed next to me and removed the wet cloth, feeling the temperature of my heated skin. I hardly noticed when he flinched away, replacing the cloth and hopping off the bed to dash outside. When he practically drowned me in freezing river water... I noticed. Sputtering, I bolted upright, coughing and spitting out mouthfuls of fishy-tasting water.
"What was that for!" I gasped, wiping the water from my face and wringing out what I could of my hair. I coughed again as he answered.
"Your... fever-thing was really, really warm," he said. I placed a wet hand over my mouth to keep from letting my frustration get the better of me as the shock of being doused wore off.
"All right, all right... but I really don't need to be soaked right now, okay? That'll just make it worse, so if you don't mind, I'll just change and go back to sleep," I explained in as calm a voice as I could muster under the circumstances as I stood up shakily to change out of my very wet pajamas into something a little less dripping. After doing so, I slowly stripped the sheets from the mattress and replaced them, feeling the strength quickly seep out of me even through this simple action. I coughed again as I slipped back under the fresh covers and closed my eyes, still sensing the Lorax's gaze resting on me. I supposed that I'd have to get used to it, he hadn't shown any signs of letting me be so far. I seriously hoped I'd get over this cold soon; the fuzzy orange meatloaf seemed to be taking it a lot more seriously than needed.
When I finally heard him rummaging around by the stove again, I let myself relax. Well, as much as I could relax while a short, orange, furry guardian was experimenting with a hot element in a flammable tent... oh well. I couldn't stop him from trying even if I wanted to. A half-hour later, I was still resting peacefully in bed as the smell of extremely burnt batter filled the tent and the splat of said burnt pancakes on the floor made itself known as the Lorax attempted and failed to flip them. I half-opened my eyes. He was picking up a blackish-looking, flattish-looking piece of what I assumed to be pancake batter from the floor and setting it on a plate stacked with similar globs. I smirked, yawned, coughed, sniffed, and proceeded to roll over, closing my eyes. A moment later he was shaking me by the arm to wake me. I sighed and sat up against my pillow, coughing again as I did so.
"Here ya go, Beanpole, eat up!" The Lorax said as he placed the heaping plate of not-so-appetizing 'pancakes' on my lap. I wasn't very hungry... or enthusiastic about eating this particular food-like mass.
"Uh... thanks..." I said with a sort of half-smile that looked a little more like a wince as I stared at the plate, making no move to even try it. Luckily for me, Pipsqueak wandered in, soaked and a little bit wobbly. The little Bar-ba-loot must have been trying his hand at swimming again. When he spotted me sitting on the bed with the plate of blackened batter on my lap, he smiled and ran over, arms outstretched. He couldn't quite lift himself onto the bed, so the Lorax snatched him up around the waist and hoisted him onto the covers. He was still dripping wet, but he hardly seemed to notice, so I dried him off with a corner of the quilt as he dug into the plate of pancakes. He didn't seem to mind the fact that they were burnt to a crisp and yet somehow still gooey. The Lorax eyed me suspiciously, obviously wondering why I wasn't eating his masterpiece of the culinary arts. I gave him another awkward smile and shrugged. I was actually expecting him to tell me off for it, as was his custom, but he instead gave me an almost sympathetic look and went back to the stove to clean off the globs of gooey pancake mix from the element. I just stared after him in disbelief. What the heck was going through his head? My thoughts – and Pipsqueak's meal – were interrupted by another bout of hacking coughs. I clutched at my chest. It was really starting to hurt to cough so much.
Pipsqueak glanced at me worriedly, and I noticed the same expression mirrored on the Lorax's features when he turned from his duties.
"What?" I asked; voice scratchy. His look of worry instantly morphed into a passive expression.
"Nothin', just... startled me, that's all," he said, shrugging his shoulders and turning back to the stove. I have to admit that I was a bit exasperated at this point. I slid the plate of half-finished food off of my lap and set it beside Pipsqueak, patting him on the head as I did so. He looked at me for a moment before munching away at the doughy mounds. I settled back against the pillows and put a hand to my feverish forehead. There was something going on here that I wasn't seeing.
A/N: Hope this chapter was enjoyable. As always, reviews are very much appreciated.