The Trees Up North

Chapter III

The man just laid there, staring at me. He looked down at my bowl, then back to my eyes.

"What?" I said it out loud; I didn't think I had said anything.

The man laying in bed moved his right arm, causing him to flinch a little. He cupped his hand. Then, he moved it from the top of his chest to his stomach in a perfect line.

"Be careful with your arm!" I didn't dare to stand up yet, so instead I turned my body to face him. The patch man repeated the movement, cupping his hand and bringing it down to his stomach.

Confusion clouded my mind as I struggled to make sense of the man's gestures. "I'm sorry, but I don't quite grasp what you're trying to tell me," I said, my voice tinged with frustration and curiosity. He let out a sigh before looking back at my bowl of soup. He seemed to ignore my confusion, instead attempting to explain the process of cupping his hand and replicating the movement.

I looked at him for a few seconds before realizing what he meant: "Oh! You're hungry?"

The man gave a nod. I stared at him, wondering how the hell he could be hungry after almost dying. I gently walked over to the kitchen, my eyes never leaving the man's face. I didn't know if he was a danger to me yet; sure, he saved me, but again, better safe than sorry.

I grabbed a bowl and brought it over to the pot sitting on the fire. Marlow was interested in the man as well. The snail sat facing the patch man. I take my eyes off the man for a moment, taking time to scoop a fair amount of soup into the bowl. I carefully ladled the steaming soup into the bowl, the aroma of savory herbs and vegetables filling the air. The warmth radiating from the bowl seeped into my hands, providing a comforting sensation against the cold cabin. I carefully brought it over to the man lying in bed. "He tries to sit up, being careful not to put any weight on his arms. His face lights up with joy when he sees the steaming soup. After finishing my lunch, I carefully washed out my empty bowl and placed it in the sink. As I observed the man's movements, it became evident that his arms were in pain. He would attempt to eat the soup faster, only to flinch in agony.

"Here, let me help you." I mumbled. I gently picked the man up by his shoulders and brought him to a sitting position. I passed him the bowl, which he gladly took. I bring a spoon over and ploop it into his bowl. He brings his right hand up and takes a bite, a smile appearing on his face as he does.

I went back to my lunch and continued eating, watching the man's every movement. It was clear that his arms hurt. He would try to move them faster to take more bites of soup, but he would flinch in pain. I took my now-empty bowl to the sink and washed it out gently. The man gently puts his bowl down on the ground below the bed.

"My name is Cedar." I say it loudly enough so he can hear, "What should I call you?"

The man looks surprised before bringing up his right hand. He started by making small movements of an upside-down "U" with a finger in between two others and his pinkie pointing in the air.

"Patches, I don't understand." I took the bowl from the floor and gave him a glare.

The man let out a sad sigh and a slight whine. He looks around the room, taking in his surroundings, before pointing to my stack of sketchbooks. He looks back at me, keeping his finger on the sketchbooks. I tilt my head and study him before I slowly reach for the sketchbooks.

"You want to look at my art?" My voice came out harsh, with hints of confusion. He gave me a slight nod. "uh, ok?"

I went over to my pile and grabbed an almost-fulfilled sketchbook near the bottom. It was full of sketches of acorns and pine trees, as well as Marlow. There's a pencil on the spine of the book and a small tear in the front cover. I gently put it on his lap.