But he did not fall asleep. The minute the clearing fell silent, memories rushed back, leaving Zack unable to sleep with so many thoughts.
Zack hadn’t had a minute to think seriously about anything since waking up in the forest. Events had cascaded so rapidly that all of his energy had been spent focusing on them, on survival, on defense. But now he had a minute — too many of them. The first thing that came into his mind was Why? He began thinking about it and an unpleasant hollow feeling crept into the pit of his stomach, settling there like a dent. It was a feeling he was familiar with; he reflected that anxiety wouldn’t get anyone anywhere, but the feeling remained. He was awake a long time, turning everything over in his mind, trying to reason it out in spite of realizing that whether he came to the right conclusion or not, there was no way to know it. Possibilities multiplied and multiplied again, filling his mind. In another time and place he might have been entertained by this sort of daydreaming, but not now. It made him feel acutely, absolutely lost.
At last he became so uncomfortable that he heaved himself to a sitting position on the branch, hugging his knees. Unexpectedly a long tail uncoiled behind him to hang down for balance. That sensation made him acutely aware of his new body and, consequently, the circumstances by which he had acquired it.
Suddenly he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Zack,” Alexander said quietly, abruptly. “You awake?”
“Yes.”
“Ah cain’t sleep.”
“Why?”
“Ah keep thinkin’ what happened last time Ah was unconscious.”
“That was not a natural unconsciousness, Alex,” said Zack reasonably.
“Ah know. But Ah’m still kinda … scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of … if it happens again?”
“You don’t want to get back home?” Zack’s tone conveyed just the right amount of incredulity.
“O’course Ah do. But how do we know that’ll happen? What if it gets worse?”
“We’ll deal with it if it comes to that.”
“And if Ah’m by m’self?”
“Then you’ll deal with it.”
“But if Ah cain’t —”
“Shh,” Zack cut him off. “It’s too late for hypothetical games. Go to sleep.”
“Ah cain’t.”
“Oh, why not?”
“Ah’m thinkin’ too much.”
“About what?”
There was a silence, filled only with the dull steady thunder of the waterfall. Then: “About … everything.” Another pause. “Mostly about what happened.”
“Yeah.”
“What did happen, anyway? How’d we get here? How’d we get this way?”
Zack sighed. “I wish I knew. But I think we’ll eventually find out.”
“How do you know?” Alexander demanded.
“I don’t,” Zack admitted. “I just hope we do.”
“An’ meanwhile?”
The silence this time was so long Alexander thought of the answer almost at the same time Zack said it. That was the first time Zack’s worries had been turned into a concrete idea, something he could deal with directly, that he could think about and rationalize and come to a conclusion. Zack murmured it down to Alexander, “Meanwhile... I guess we’ll just have to live with it. We’ll be okay. Look how well we’ve done so far…” Zack felt, not exactly relieved, but perhaps had reached a necessary state of resignation. He had only needed to convince himself that there was no use in stewing over unanswerable questions; now that he had, the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach dissolved and he dropped more easily into a sweet cool darkness.