Thursday, 15 January 2009 - 3:39 pm


Nugget woke up.  I can’t believe it.  She just stirred and opened her eyes, without warning.

Sax was closest – he usually is – and the first the rest of us knew was his deep voice saying, “Well, hello there, little one.”  Then he asked for a bottle of water and gave her a drink, very gingerly.

She’s still pale and so terribly thin.  She is sitting up, though, and she’s gone through most of a bottle of water in the last little while.  I gave her a small section of a muesli bar to eat, to get her stomach off to an easy start.  It hasn’t had much in it for a while now.  She ate very slowly, but she put it all away.

We asked what her name is, and she just looked at us.  She doesn’t seem to remember the attack, though she recognises us, I think.  Mostly, she is sitting and watching us, drinking us in.


It’s hard to believe that this is a good thing.  I mean, of course it’s good, but there’s a part of me that is wondering if it’s the prelude to something awful.  Waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Wondering if maybe she has woken up only to leave us properly.

I shouldn’t think like that.  I’m not wishing it on her – of course I’m not.  I should be smiling and thankful, I should be walking with a bouncier step, like Dillon is right now.  I should take this as a sign to be optimistic.  This is a good thing.  She’s brighter than she ever has been, and she has been awake for hours – the longest since I’ve known her.

Maybe she won’t die.  Maybe she’ll make it.  After all this time being carried and cared for, after making it all the way to our ruined mecca, she might finally be getting better.

I feel too old and dented to hope, but I want to.