Patchworld 3

Again, let me stress that these parts are not chapters. They are parts.

And, once again, please no nitpicks for reviewing. If they don't help my overall writing and the story, than you do not need to bring it up.

feel free to look at Patchwork 1 and 2!

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“Okay, bud, don’t worry. She’s all yours.” Ben patted Henry’s head gingerly, and yawned. “Henry, I’m going to go to crash soon. I’m really tired.”

Henry cocked his head. His hair flopped to one side. “What’s ‘crash’?”

Ben put a hand over his eyes. The fire was so bright… and all he wanted was to black out. “Er.. It means that something invisible’s gonna knock me over, and I’m going to have my eyes shut for a while. Like, a really long time.”

At first, the little boy looked confused, but then he nodded knowingly. “That happens to Marie a lot.”

Ben grimaced. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it. Huh…” He pulled the brown blanket over his head. “If you need anything, ask Naz. He’s by the fire.”

He could hear the boy’s face light up. “Naz!”

He didn’t want it to light up. He was finally home, and he just wanted it all to be …. dark and comfortable, and … quiet.

Naz added a log to the fire, throwing it to the charred pile so that white-yellow sparks flew up and burnt out. He watched the light swirl and flicker into the chimney, and it occurred to him that it never stayed the same. It was always changing...but it shifted so silently and effortlessly that it was taken for granted.

“It’s like upside down snow,” said a small voice behind him.

Naz broke his focus to turn around. “Oh, hey, Henry.”

The little boy hopped a few times at the sound of his name. “Hi, Naz!”

Naz yawned. “Henry, you might want to be a little more quiet. Some people are trying to sleep in here.”

Henry shrugged, unapologetically. “Like you?”

“Mmm...eventually.” Naz poked his stick in the fire. It was getting very short-the end kept reddening and falling off. He would have to discard it soon for a new one.

“What do you mean, snow?” He asked.

“Snow. It’s sparky and white and it falls from the sky. It looks like sparks because they’re both bright and sparkly except that snow falls down and sparks fall up. And they both sort of disappear really fast unless there’s a lot of them.” Henry explained, and Naz smiled.

“You’re right...it’s just like snow, kind of. But you know what?”

“What?”

“I like this a lot better. We made it ourselves, so it feels nicer, don’t you think?”

Henry wrinkled his nose. “We didn’t make it. Phoebe and Alden did.”

“Okay, they did. But still. It feels nicer because they made it. We don’t know where snow comes from. Or who made it.”

Henry’s lips parted questioningly. But because he didn’t want to admit he was confused, he was silent for a few moments until Naz picked up on it and elaborated.

“Well, we made the fire. Min and Kira got the wood, and Alden and Phoebe made a pile, and then Alden made it into a fire. And if we didn’t have them to do it, we would be screw-we would be cold.” Naz took a breath. “ So the fire is nicer because without it, we couldn’t survive. And snow is cold by itself, and it’s wet and it makes some of us… sick. And we can’t control it. So it isn’t as nice.” He threw what was left of the poking stick into the fire, and a few sparks sputtered up, swirling with the smoke and dying quickly.

“It’s prettier though.” Henry said softly, and snuggled up to Naz’s shoulder sleepily. “It’s so big…”

Naz leaned against the small body beside him.

He was tired. All his muscles ached, and every one of his movements were slow, overworked.

But his mind was awake.

“You’re not so big, Henry. But I like you a whole lot.”

Henry pushed his head under the arm beside him, like a puppy. “But I’m going to grow and be big. I’m going to be as tall as Ben. That’s what Marie says.”

“She’s probably right. She usually is…” Naz said. “I’m short, though,” he continues. “You like me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I like you,” Henry said. “But you aren’t that pretty, though.” He giggled as Naz pushed him away, hands on his hips.

“How could you, Henry… I am hurt.” But he doesn’t sound hurt, so Henry goes on. “I mean, your hair is pretty…” He let out a shriek of soft laughter when Naz flipped his long, coarse yellow hair over his shoulder , imitating Kira perfectly. It took the younger a few minutes to catch his breath before he went on.“But you’re so skinny. You look like a fox.”

“A fox?” The fire was ebbing now, the coals bright red and iridescent, the logs blackened except for a small light patch near the edge of one. Naz fished a stick out from the woodpile, and pushed the coals towards it. It needs air.

He carefully bent out of his legs-crossed sit, away from Henry, and angled himself to the firepit, blowing steadily until a tongue of flame crept from the darkness and began to lick the uncharred patch.

“Where me and Marie used to live there were a lot of them. They look like dogs except they’re skinnier- like you…. And kind of meaner. And they like to eat dead things.” Henry said.

Naz paused, still with his head by the fire. “Oh.”

He threw the last, hardly burnt stick into the fire and turned back to the little boy. “That should do it for the night, bud. You better go to sleep. Find Marie.”

“You don’t eat dead things, do you, Naz?” Henry said sleepily.

Naz sat again and hugged his knees. “No. I don’t.” He was so tired. But he couldn’t just..close his eyes.

“Ok.” Henry seemed satisfied. “You’re not mean, either...You’re just skinny... That’s why you’re like a fox...”

“Go to sleep, Henry.”

“Ok,” Henry said again, and with one last small, sweet smile, he crawled away to a nearby blanket, that was already occupied by his sister Marie. He disappeared completely under the fabric, not even his head poking out.