The World Without Flags

“He isn’t an animal, you know,” I tell him. I feel hot and angry all of a sudden and I stride over to Eric and begin to wipe the bits of food from his shirt. Pest watches me and, I notice, so doesn’t Queen. I brush at Eric some more while those two watch me. I feel myself blush again and I don’t know why. “Stop staring at me,” I say and it comes out a lot more bitter than I meant. In fact, it comes out cruel. I hear it and I’m confused. Actually I feel pretty grateful to him for finding me and for feeding Eric at all. I know it’s not easy. But for some reason, I’m just annoyed. Really annoyed. I know I should be saying thank you, but instead, I sound like I hate him.

I don’t know what I expect from Pest, but he surprises me by staying silent. He crouches down in front of Queen and strokes her between the ears. Queen makes a little whine of pleasure, and Pest smiles at her. I’m not used to seeing him smile. It makes him look even younger. He’s just a kid. But then the way he turns to me with those eyes and he says, “You want some breakfast?” It’s like the right thing to say. The grown up thing to say. Just to ignore my silly mood. It’s really annoying and I appreciate it too at the same time. Pest confuses me.

“Breakfast sounds good,” I mutter. I’m annoyed, but my hunger easily overpowers all that. As I finish cleaning up Eric, Pest starts another fire. He brings out a canvas bag and pours flour into a bowl. Timidly, a bit ashamed of myself for not saying thank you immediately, I poke at the fire and encourage it along while he gets out a big slab of delicious yellow butter and begins to mix it with the flour. He adds drops of water to the mixture and then puts a pan on the fire and, pressing the flour and butter into neat little buns, he puts them on the pan to cook. The smell of it cooking is pure pleasure. I sit back, almost overcome with the smell of cooking flour and butter.

“Biscuits,” I breathe.

Pest doesn’t look up from the cooking, but I can see the corner of his mouth bend upward in a smile. I wonder if it’s too late to say thank you. I wonder if now it seems like an apology for being so mean earlier. I don’t want it to be an apology. I really mean it. I really want to thank him. But I think I ruined it. I think I missed my chance. Nice going, Birdie. I remember then clearly the last words I said to Eric, how mean I am without knowing why. Why am I so mean? What is wrong with me? I poke away at the fire and avoid Pest’s gaze.

When the biscuits are done, we sit back and lay them down on little plastic plates that Pest takes from his backpack. When mine lay steaming open in front of me, Pest quietly passes me a thick pad of butter and then a jar of blueberry jam. I groan from pleasure when I see the deep purple jam. I can’t wait for the biscuit to cool. Soon I’m chewing on the soft bread, mixed with melted butter and sweet jam. It’s burning my mouth a little, so I have to wave my hand in front of my face. Pest laughs, and I’m too happy to do anything but laugh in return. The biscuit is gone before I know it, and without saying anything, Pest makes us two more. Then two more after that. At last, stomach content and filled with warm, fresh biscuits, I sit back in front of the fire, and sigh.

We listen to the cracking and snapping of the fire. Pest stares into the burning wood, absently scratching at Queen, who’s sleeping, motionless except for an occasional twitch of her ears. The sun has some real heat to it this morning. I listen to the birds in the trees.

“Unh,” says Eric. I turn my head toward him. While we were eating, Eric has moved up to his knees and turned his face toward the tree. He looks like a child who has been sent into the corner for being naughty.

I turn back to Pest who’s looking at me with a serious, but completely inscrutable look on his face. I turn away, feeling my face flush. I need to say something to him.

“How’d you do it?” I ask.

“Do what?”

“Find us.”

Pest looks at me and smiles. “Long story,” he says.

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