Faithful Pebble
Part One Hundred and Four
"Who are you?" Pebble asked.
Her voice tickled his memory... no, bored into it, pierced it sharply as the wanderer stepped out of the front door. He closed the rotten, tattered slab of wood behind him as his gaze scanned the horizon taking in the flowered meadow and its skirted forest. The sun was about to rise. Though he couldn't see it, he could feel it, hear it in the rustling of the trees, the trembling of the bushes fussing over each waking movement of their tenant squirrels, crows, sparrows and field mice. He wondered if a kitten was hidden amongst them. His hand clutched his bag, while the other nestled a small blanket into the cleft of his elbow. He sighed, the wanderer. He searched until something caught his gaze. A flash of light, he thought. He squinted towards a certain bush resting at the top of the meadow's circled basin, the hill's crest bordering the tiny valley on the right. The bush rested where the three of them had entered, the wanderer, Pebble and the boy, the child, the tiniest pickpocket of that monstrous gang.
The flash came again, and the wanderer smiled. The expression hung wearily from his lips. It felt relieved. It felt lighter than expected, welcomed, needed, wanted. With a more determined step, the wanderer meandered across the bridge of well placed logs and rushed silently up the sloping hill. Periodically, he looked back at the house, checking in case he was being watched (he wasn't). He looked towards the wood for other eyes, other spying pupils that he couldn't see (there didn't seem to be). Again, he sighed. Again, he felt the light flash in his direction, a little stronger this time.
The wanderer reached the bushes and lowered his bag. Cautiously, he knelt behind them feeling more than seeing the tiny body sitting groggily… no, worriedly… no, excitedly beside him.
The boy stuffed something yellow quickly into his pocket as he grinned. In spite his fatigue, the boy beamed radiantly. They had traveled a long way the day before. The wanderer remembered and grimaced. He watched the shadow of the small child raise a hand to cover his bubbling laughter. "You did it," the boy whispered, or at least tried. With three missing teeth, the attempt was far from easy. "You got her out. You rescued Pebble."
"Hungry?" the wanderer asked slightly upset and relieved. He was unphased by the child's praise.
"Oh yes!" the boy answered.
"Tired?"
"No… well, maybe… so what now? Are you going to kiss her? No-wait, you already did that!" The boy grabbed the blanket the wanderer quickly offered him and wrapped it snuggly about his shoulders. He watched the man's brown and stout and careful hands pull out the leftover dried meat from his intriguing bag. The boys' eyes observed him curiously, effortlessly accepting and anticipating another display of Pebble's discovery from the night before. It proved that the boy had heard and saw everything. At this, the wanderer rubbed the back of his neck.
"Yep," the child nodded. "I saw everything." Between mouthfuls of overly dry rabbit, the child swallowed hard. Then, he chugged down the water, which the wanderer immediately retrieved. "Are you a secret prince?" the kitten sputtered, no longer choking. "or are you… wait, are you going to carry her away? Are you going to marry her?"
The wanderer paused, stilled as he started to repack his supplies: the water bottle, the left over meat. The boy watched him. The wanderer ignored the blanket wrapped around the child's shoulders. He wouldn't need it.
"Wait," the child murmured. He frowned. "What are you doing? Are..." His fingers tightened about the rough cloudy fabric. "Are you leaving?"
- Calla