The first twelve hours passed without incident, unless one counted the mountain lion's return at approximately nine in the evening.
It appeared on the porch, sat beside a stack of firewood, and remained there for twenty minutes.
Akira observed it through the window.
“It's keeping watch.”
“It's probably looking for food.”
“Do you have to interpret everything in the least meaningful way possible?”
“I'm trying to interpret it in the way least likely to get us eaten.”
Akira went back to meditating.
I stayed awake until midnight, partly because I was concerned about the animal and partly because I had discovered that the cabin's Wi-Fi was strong enough to support a video call but not strong enough to load the retailer's tracking page for the replacement lavender plant.
At one in the morning, Akira woke me.
“Daniel.”
I opened my eyes.
“What?”
“I've experienced a regression.”
I sat up.
“What happened?”
“The shivering has returned.”
I stared at him.
“Your soul is shivering again?”
“Yes.”
“Did Cassian contact you?”
“No.”
“Did you receive another message?”
“No.”
“Did anything happen?”
Akira hesitated.
“The moon moved behind a cloud.”
I lay back down.
“I'm going to sleep.”
“You don't understand the significance.”
“I understand that I have work to do tomorrow, and that if I don't get at least six hours of sleep, my own soul is going to file a formal complaint.”
He stood beside the bed.
“I may need to consult Master Nishihama again.”
“Of course you do.”
“Perhaps the retreat needs to be extended.”
I closed my eyes.
“Please don't extend the retreat.”
“I can't ignore the signs.”
“Then don't ignore them. Just interpret them quietly.”
He returned to the meditation room.
I heard him sit down on the rug.
Then I heard Mochi emerge from beneath the bed, walk across the room, and begin eating from his travel bowl.
The cat had apparently concluded that the spiritual atmosphere was sufficiently stable for dinner.
I envied him.