The forest is dense, with beams of sunlight filtering through the trees. The air is fresh and filled with the scent of pine and earth. There were birds scattered, tweeting. I wanted to talk and ask but his face tells me he doesn't want me to talk.
His eyes kept changing colors, he was probably mad that his treehouse was on fire. All the important things on his table were burned to ashes.
His heavy footsteps rustled the resting fallen leaves, calming my nerves.
"How are you?" I broke the ice. It was getting uncomfortable.
His eyes glowed in a yellow tinge and replied huskily. "I'm mad."
Of course, he is mad. Everything he prepared was left to ashes.
Just then, my stomach growled, and his eyes looked at my stomach I was facing him. I felt like a cat stretched on the floor, its belly facing its owner.
"Right, you didn't eat yesterday. You fell asleep."
