The child was out of his composure as he was sitting beside Jack, and Jack uttered conversationally.
"Aren't you bored, my child? Seems like you are," he said while caressing his concaved eye socket as it was stinging his very nerves. But he was numb. His thoughts numb-er. One his eyes started to glow nothing but black light, looking and sounding worried as he was taking from the socket off from its place, and it was little. It could be a twig, a pebble, a dirt, but the child never bothered. He held his long stick of which the carcass was impaled unto quite well, though his arm was sent aquiver (pardon, he was as weak as a shot game from hunting, or haunting, as he sho-uld had said from the very beginning of his existence) by the length of the stick he was controlling, and his eyes looked at Jack's. The other was well, looking into something he could not reckon of.
The other, however, was dead. It sure was as the child would had uttered. But he knew engaging Jack into his anger would not make any difference. It also took for him to reply to Jack's utterings, as he seemed to be quite futile from the very moment. All he could do was hold his carcass for it was the only food he could be eating as the cold breeze kept on hitting his body. There was a mushy sound coming from Jack's fingers. The child ultimately knew that Jack was rummaging through his gangrene-like flesh. It sounded soft but the atmosphere had become softer, and from there he plucked out a twig from his left cheek. Then there was a change of mood from the color of his eyes. The black-colored worried eye of Jack's had completely turned back into red, green, and soon it was purple like the well one. He looked back towards the child while holding his carcass-on-a-stick and went on to ask him again, but he never sounded angry. He sounded curious, and the words from his mouth followed with them echoing around the child's ears and sooner his thoughts.
"Aren't you, my child?" Jack spoke once more while opening his dingy leather bag, opening it with his bloody left hand and putting the twig into one of its pockets, and closing it once more. His hand went light as he wanted the child to be asked once more, and he answered with the lowest of voice. "I was never bored, Jack. I just became curious enough to look—" said the child. His words got interrupted by the bursting sound of the oil brushed into the carcass' surface and jack's very voice. His voice grunted like a child but sounded relaxed. "Look where? You chose to hide somewhere I am very known of. You could have gone for the cabinet, but you didn't" he replied quite lengthy. The child had speech left to speak at all. He could see the inquisitive being of Jack right on his eyes, and soon enough his voice approached with such apology which reached his eyes and the bottom of his soles as the cold winds started to rip his sanity off.
"Pardon, Jack. I could've done better," he whispered around his which had reached Jack's blunt ears. He could feel that the child had been completely since of himself, like he had no gas to even turn the stick so that the carcass would cook evenly, but the child didn't. He felt anxious and so did the child. "You have nothing to be sorry of, my child. I know exactly how it feels," he replied back to the child as he grabbed the child's water bottle with his free hand and handed it into him, of which the child grabbed immediately and carefully as his other hand was shaking and he decided to put it rest above his knee. He opened the bottle with utter care as the next fountain could be a hundred yards afar from them, and the cap had twisted and went rested above the dirt and hugging any dust it could hug upon itself.
The child turned the stick and the carcass upside-down and he continued to hold it, placed the bottle's mouth right in front of his, and he drank. His throat was moving like a worm and Jack could hear every one of his glugs; he got himself quenched and placed the bottle back down on the dirt, and focused on cooking the carcass, and suddenly the cold breeze of the black atmosphere receded like tides. The pink waning moon had come closer into their whereabouts and the bonfire had started to become redder and they could think of, and it was warm. Warmer than the sun from Micael's.
"I wonder where's Aleck, my child. I miss him," Jack said as he prepared to lift off his carcass from the blazing bonfire while talking towards the child. He looked sad and wary. The color of his eyes turned into hard blue and he looked like one. "Everything's eventual, Jack. All we have to do is wait and wait, over and over until he finds out that this is where he really belongs," replied the child with such enthusiasm above his head as he removed the carcass from the fiery flames. With a smile on his face towards Jack, Jack simply felt lighter. The child then grabbed the big banana-like leaves of which he saw from afar as he was hunting for dire black rabbits, and handed one to Jack so that they could much more hospitable than they had used to be. He placed his leaf right in front of him and above the dirt ground, and placed the very hot carcass above it. The child was hungry. Jack much hungrier. The stomach of theirs rumbled once more as the cooked aroma of the carcass had heard their olfaction, and so did the pink waning moon which overpowered the incandescent light coming from the very west of the black reaches. It was getting bigger, but Jack and the child never looked at it. They say closely into the leaf and started to eat the carcass with the best of their ability. It was hot, but a food hotter than it should have was never an excuse into not eating and letting your stomach rumble like wild boards, and so they did.
...