It was the last thing he remembered; shutting his eyes. He had been injured for some time and the wound kept getting worse. In his stubbornness he told none of the family he had on the isle, they all had families of their own now. And him... he was alone.
He had accumulated a fever. The fever had come because the wound on his side had become glazed with white. He tried his best to keep the puss down, to clean it, but he was no healer and it kept getting worse. As the days wore down so did his energy until he had none and began to lay in bed for more hours than he cared to count. He had begun to accept that his life was growing toward a closer end. Until he closed his eyes one night and knew better than to expect to wake the next morning.
He had accumulated a fever. The fever had come because the wound on his side had become glazed with white. He tried his best to keep the puss down, to clean it, but he was no healer and it kept getting worse. As the days wore down so did his energy until he had none and began to lay in bed for more hours than he cared to count. He had begun to accept that his life was growing toward a closer end. Until he closed his eyes one night and knew better than to expect to wake the next morning.
