Faithful Pebble
Part Forty-Five
He looked down at the ground, the wanderer, spied the cheese and then broke into rather boisterous laughter. It was hearty and healthy and whole, a sound you hear once in a lifetime and remember for twice that long. It clashed heavily with his mood moments prior.
And for sure, it put the boy on his toes. He frowned and then yelled. "And where do you think you're going?!"
"You know," the wanderer answered. Calmly sidestepping the question, he scratched his chin. He gave the child a little slight smirk recalling at once the sly plastered grin of that Chester cat of old. "Most pickpockets," he said. "Pick pockets because they are hungry and not just for the sport of it."
The boy merely growled before popping his fists on his hips. His hero always stood like this when he gave orders. It always made him look so proud and brave and strong and—the boy cocked his head back higher. "I ain't hungry!" he barked haughtily. "I don't want your food!"
The wanderer regarded the little boy a moment, then curled a thick finger across the plump tan skin of his bottom lip. Somewhere his smile faded. Gently, he lowered his arms before turning away to unlatch his sac. He pulled out the wilting warped basket and then lifted its lid to reveal the squashed lump of freshly baked bread nestled in its center. He tore off a piece and replaced the lid aware of the boy's curious stare watching his every move.
"Hey!" the kitten purred. "What are you doing?"
"Me?" the wanderer answered moving to sit down against a tree, unaware of how close he came to sitting on the boulder the child's hero had once possessed two years ago. The kitten remembered, however, and dropped his arms.
The wanderer broke the bread further and offered the child the largest piece while nibbling on the other. "I think that I should have lunch before I journey on up that hill behind me. My task could take some time and I will need the energy later. Would you care to join me?" The piece of bread in his hand revolved around green and brown and strong and stout and decidedly suspicious looking fingers. It made the child curl a lip.
- Calla