Faithful Pebble
Part Seventy-Two
"What happens next?" the wanderer asked. The wanderer questioned. The wanderer wondered.
"Are you hungry?" Pebble answered.
The wanderer blinked. He was not quite ready for those words, that idea to spring up so suddenly. It was unusual for him; natural for the world, but not for him. For a moment, he hesitated before he rushed to respond. "A little," he said. "Here, let me help you."
Within an hour, the wanderer had rummaged up a small fire, not too big mind you. With Pebble's guidance, they caught some squirrels and harvested some of the forest's more edible roots and other scattered plant life. Their meal was roasting happily when the wanderer spoke again. "Thank you for saying something." He muttered while he stared into the flames, "I eat so sparingly. I would have kept on going without considering my guest. I am not used to having another mouth to feed."
"Or one used to eating the same rubbage I scavenge every day. Most would turn up their nose at the roots let alone the squirrels, but not her." The wanderer watched Pebble eat quietly. He wished he could find a way to spread his bounty to the boy. Perhaps, secretly, he'd leave some meat, pocket the roots somewhere where the boy could easily reach. He hoped the boy was watching, spying, eager to pick a pocket with those dirty itchy small little fingers. Perhaps—
"It's not an issue," Pebble answered. "I just wanted to rest mainly." Eating her last morsel, she stood up and looked out into the trees. "We are close," she murmured.
For a moment, the wanderer considered her. He was curious to hear the thoughts floating in her mind. Had she missed the forest? Did she hate them? Where else would she go?
Go? That was a question for himself. Where would they go from here?
Anywhere, the wanderer decided. Anywhere, she wanted.
The wanderer got up and packed his things.
Once they were back on the trail, the wanderer finally repeated his question. "What happens next? In your story, you said the villagers blame the tree for what happens. Please tell me what it is?"
Pebble was quiet for a moment. For a moment, the wanderer thought she might not have heard him, but then her voice blossomed into the darkness. Low and soft, he strove to listen carefully.
"A boy," Pebble replied. "A boy is what happens."
– Calla