Madha, meanwhile, remained rooted in place, his arms awkwardly lingering in midair as if something had been taken away from him.
He already missed the warmth in his arms.
Snapping himself out of it with a quick shake of his head, he rushed toward Gara with worry on his face.
"Want me to carry you home?" he asked gently.
"No need. Let's just cook the fish. We already have them anyway."
Madha looked reluctant but nodded. "Alright. But you stay right here, okay? Let me handle everything."
With that, he got to work, building a makeshift stove and collecting dry firewood nearby.
This time, Gara didn't feel guilty watching Madha do the work.
His body was clearly worn out, and more importantly he felt like he'd already done more than his part. After all, he had caught seven fishes, each the size of a grown man's hand.
