"Grandy? Are you all right? Your face looks pale..."
Later at night, after the big lunch party, Alinta found her sugar glider mate curling in the bed, hands covering his belly, looking like he was suffering a stomach ache.
"I don't know, my stomach feels funny, and I want to throw up... Alinta, what happened to me? Am I going to die?" Grandy rounded his big black eyes, pouting.
Alinta put her hand on the glider's head and then felt his temperature. A few minutes later, she put her other hand on his belly, slightly rubbing it, talking to her mate gently:
"Don't worry, Grandy, you will be fine, it feels like you just have a low-grade fever. According to my experience, you are having a digestive disorder. Do you feel better while I am rubbing your abdomen?"
