Day Seventy-Four, New Member (Part Two) – Additional Chapter for The Serene Alliance of Cloud Rising

Yes, this must be the little one's offspring, covered in tiny insects, its eyes tightly shut. It looked utterly lifeless, barely clinging to existence. I wasn’t even sure if it could be saved, or what exactly it was. If it weren’t for the occasional twitch, I would have thought it was already dead.

Should I save it or not?

The dilemma weighed heavily on me. I had no idea what it ate, and it was so small. Caring for it would demand a great deal of energy—energy I simply did not have.

After much contemplation, I chose to take it in. Seeing it so fragile and adorable, I couldn’t bear to let it be devoured alive by those mosquitoes. I brushed it a few times, and countless ants and insects crawled out from its fur.

Had it been another small beast, it might have already perished. But it hadn’t. Perhaps it was still holding on, waiting for its mother’s return—unaware that its mother had already perished, fallen victim to an inconspicuous swarm of bees.

For this tiny creature, it had lost its mother. For the bee colony, it was a catastrophe; nearly the entire hive had been destroyed in the fierce battle.

More insects kept crawling from the little one’s fur. I dared not pick it up directly, for the ants here were several times larger than any I had ever seen in civilized society. Their jaws were massive, moving constantly in a menacing rhythm. A single bite would be excruciating.

I decided to thread a vine through the little creature’s body and lift it that way, intending to carry it back. Yet even so, the ants climbed up the vine, snapping their huge jaws at me aggressively, seemingly enraged by my actions.

I wasn’t sure if they wanted to bite me out of spite or teach me a lesson. But they were mistaken—there was no chance for them. A flick of my finger sent them scattering.

Back in the treehouse, without knowing if it could tolerate water, I gave it a bath. Its fur was surprisingly smooth, making it hard to soak. I had to rub against the grain. Unsurprisingly, some ants were driven out by the water, floating helplessly.

I scooped away the stubborn pests with leaves while continuing to wash the little one. At one point, it opened its eyes briefly, terrified, flailing its limbs in an attempt to break free.

But it was still too weak to escape, so I bathed it for about ten minutes. Eventually, no more ants or bugs appeared. Feeling it was clean enough, I dried it gently with a torn piece of old clothing.

After drying it, I carried it down to the lower level of the treehouse and carefully placed it on the table. My thought was simple: since its mother had died because she got trapped in the hive while stealing honey or bee larvae, perhaps this little one would like that too.

Once settled, I prepared some honey water, knowing it probably couldn’t drink pure honey yet. I placed the bowl in front of it. It started moving—its nose twitched, and it seemed to like it.

Then, it managed to lift half its body and softly called out twice. Receiving no response, it simply lay down before the honey water, not drinking at all.

“Does it not like it? That can’t be. Or perhaps it’s too weak even to eat?” Watching the little one lie there with closed eyes, I pondered several approaches.

I had to try something. As I prepared, my black dog placed its hind legs on a stool and front paws on the table, watching my every move like a well-behaved student. Even the dog was intrigued—perhaps mistaking the little one’s mostly black fur for a kindred spirit.

I tentatively touched the little one’s head with my finger, but it turned away. Undeterred, I dipped my finger in the honey water and offered it again.

It hesitated, struggled, opened its eyes to sniff, called out twice more, then turned its head away again. Another failure. I felt disheartened. Was I really going to watch this little creature die?

Just as I was about to give up, I noticed a new movement. It turned its head back to sniff and seemed to make a decision. Five seconds later, it bit down on my finger.

I was startled. I had seen these creatures before—cute but fierce—and when angry, their sharp teeth were unmistakable. If memory served, they even had two large canine teeth.

Though weak, the little one’s bite was swift. Before I could pull away, it had already latched on.

“Hmm?” The anticipated pain never came. Then it dawned on me why it hadn’t drunk the honey water—it wasn’t ready for solid food yet.

It was still nursing, sucking on my finger!

My goodness, it was so young. Its survival was nothing short of a miracle. I had no experience caring for such an infant, let alone raising it to maturity.

The finger had just a trace of honey water. After sucking for a while and tasting nothing more, it spit my finger out. I continued feeding it by dipping my finger repeatedly, all the while pondering better methods—this was far too slow. I couldn’t spend all night feeding it like this.

Suddenly, a solution flashed in my mind. Yes, this would be more convenient! Ideally, a nursing bottle would be perfect, but I had none. Still, I could improvise.

With that idea, I set to work. A narrow-mouthed plastic bottle without a cap was my first choice. Carefully, I poured the honey water inside. Then, I cut a small piece of cloth from the ragged clothing.

Rolling the cloth into a cone, I stuffed it into the bottle’s mouth, sealing it completely. Done! The process was simple. When I turned the bottle upside down to test, I was quite pleased—the honey water dripped slowly but steadily, much faster than feeding by finger.

Presenting this makeshift “bottle” to the little one, it initially rejected it, turning its head away with its usual aloofness.

But knowing its temperament, I persisted. After a few minutes, it finally bit the exposed cloth and began to suck.

Holding the bottle tilted, I made it easier for the little one to drink, though it had to tilt its head back, which was tiring. Thanks to the combination of gravity and its sucking, by nightfall, the entire bottle of honey water was gone!

Satisfied and full, the little creature began to doze off peacefully.

It seemed we had a new member in our midst.