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Chapter VI
Both Saure and Fred were woken by great clashes of thunder throughout that terrible night. She held him close, her small, slender arms barely reaching around his neck.
It was not the morning light that woke them, but the sound of rushing water. They could hear it eddying around the house. Saure rose and lit the tallow, looking over the edge of the loft. She was horrified to find that the water was only a hand's length away from reaching them. She looked worriedly to Fred, and he nodded. Time to start moving to the roof.
Saure had the idea of making a crude tent from the oilskin she had used to bundle the dry-goods. She took a nearby trellis-pole and fitted it to the middle of the skin. The window was opened and unshuttered, and she pushed this skin out before her. The wind had died down considerably, but the rain persisted.
They arranged their little tent on the cold, wet stone roof, and arranged their foodstuffs on an old blanket to keep it dry beneath the skin. Together they crouched, watching the water rise slowly around them. The land was lost beneath a thick blanket of ruddy brown, and the cool overcast morning light did little to improve the view. Nag was already atop her stable, and the water was lapping at her hooves. She eventually gathered enough courage to jump in, and swim to the roof of the farmhouse to join the other two survivors of the Fira farm. The oilskin wasn't large enough for the three of them, but Nag was just grateful she had somewhere higher to be. She had noticed Fred some time ago from the roof of her stable, and Saure was afraid she might have been frightened or angry at her. When asked, Nag simply huffed a single chuckle.
"I knew ye were goin' to tend to the hurt beast all along. I just have a hard time believin' it with me own eyes. Ye have a gift, girl. How ye choose to put it to use is yer own business, say I. Just so long as ye can keep yer pet housecat from feasting on me tired old bones…"
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"Madam!" Fred retorted, "Firstly, I am not a housecat! And secondly, what starved beast would be desperate enough to try to choke down your dry and meager sustenance? You're leathery and unappetizing. I'll not be insulted by your accusation. And furthermore…"
Nag leaned toward Saure who was between them, and who was only mildly amused at this small spat. "Yer friend thinks himself an intellectual, don't 'e?" Nag muttered.
The green-shed was lost beneath the floodwaters, as were most of the other sheds in the kirn. Saure could see the other families clustered on their respective rooftops, weathering the flood just as she was. This was at least a small comfort.
Luckily, the water never rose above the rafters of the house. The rain quitted by the second day. The floodwaters stayed just over the level of her loft, and then very slowly began to recede. It took four days to get down below a man's waist, were he to be standing in it. Fred was the first to go down and assess the damage within the house. Nag simply leapt off the roof, taking a somewhat rough landing in the watery muck. She then went immediately to the surviving tamarind tree, and ate as many leaves as she could reach.
Fred poked his head out the top window and voiced the all-clear. Saure was reluctant to see what the inside of her house looked like. She spent more than enough time gathering everything into the oilskin, took her time getting back in through the window. Of course, the house interior was a wreck. All her parents' things, all the parchment from their business transactions, all her family's clothes…But, she noted with great relief, her books were dry and safe.
She now dreaded her parents' return. No one would want to come home to this. Thus, she set about putting things to rights. She spent the worse part of an hour mourning over the wreckage of the green-shed. All her plants were gone or lying dead in the muck on the floor. The beautiful yellow
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