"I am pleased you are here," he said at last and cupped my cheek with one hand.
I smiled. "When you're better, we'll plan where we're going next," I said with forced cheerfulness. I took his hand and held it in both of mine.
He said nothing. I pushed him onto his back.
"Shall I sing for you?" he murmured.
"Yes. A water song."
He began, and I listened, as intrigued by the man as I was his strange songs. With my stomach churning, I helped the other two men drink and began cleaning up their sores and boils. It took effort not to get sick, and I left twice to throw up where they couldn't see me.
At the back of my mind, I knew Batu was going down the same path these two had been down, but I couldn't let myself think about him in that amount of pain or his body covered with boils.
I had been through too much to let my mind trick me into a meltdown I couldn't afford. Nothing mattered - not the past, my confused emotions, my hope of returning home - except for helping Batu survive this.