Dadd drifted in and out of consciousness as sweat formed on his brow and then chilled him to his bones. He had plague. He felt like he was dying and indeed wished he would at times. He rolled from side to side unable to get comfortable and moaned in between coughs and sniffles. He felt like his face was melting.
In the midst of his anguish, his children called to him. They begged him for food, unable to find any. Their calls stirred his spirit and he found some remaining strength to lift his aching body from the bed and stand. The room spun around and he nearly fell to the ground but he managed to remain upright. Stumbling he sought his children. They were gathered together trying to decide how to find something to eat. Dadd stood, head throbbing and looked through squinted eyes.
“I will score something to eat,” Dadd mumbles.
“But father you’re ill!” The children pleaded.
“Bless you my children, you are good. But I am your father and I will find you something to eat.”
“Thank you dear man!” They cried together.
Drawing a cloak round his neck and gripping his bow, Dadd stumbled from their home and into the wild.
The wind chilled his face and sleet stung his flesh but he endured. With all his might he trudged looking for tracks of some beast that could feed his offspring. At last he found some.
The tracks were faint but he was able to follow even in the weather. At last he saw through the swirls of sleet his mark. A box of Lucky Charms pranced in the snow the clean white drifts kicking up around the food.
Dadd pulled an arrow and drew it back in his bow, aiming carefully. He exhaled then loosed his arrow. The missile flew true and struck its mark, downing the meal.
Dadd dragged the box back to his children and there was much rejoicing in the bounty he offered while he climbed back into bed, half wishing the plague would take him and end his agony.