ARCH 1

“…for I was hungry, then you fed me…”
Thursday, 5 Nov 2026, 10:40ish am EST
Outskirts of NRQZ, West Virginia
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The crisp blue winter sky and air was literally turning green.

Vic finishes his sing-song recipe, “Big boom ice-cream spoon! Scoopy, wavy, yumchius, cold and moist.
Grounded Ritz, make it snow, choco-drizzle, take and go!”, and steps out of his makeshift shrek-shed with a big bowl for two at the wood fence post🍨

“Now whAt we have hAy-er is a super snack, worthy of us royalty eh Naly-girl?
Little peace offering for anyth- now wait here just a minute ya little sass-mouth back on up a bit!
This be plenty enough for the both of us, you can get some after I gets some how’s about that little missy?
Besides, this chocolatey part’s no good for ya anyway s0o0o…
Mmmmmm-hmmmmm. Yup yup, that there be heaven alright…”

Nala lets out a forceful snort.

Oh! OH, Of course, one moment, let’s get the buggy to play us up some’ of ’em jams we like so much,
nice and low this time though”

Vic goes to fire up his truck’s CD player,

”” …♪ sloooww do0o0o0own you craazy child ♪ …””

Vic closes his eyes in lyrical appreciation, “Mm, that’s the stuff.”

Nala’s hooves lazily and rhythmically clop the earth as Vic returns and leans in next to her at their familiar wood fence meeting spot.
Nala is a stray filly pocahontas broodmare, that avoids all signs of people, except for Vic:
He’s welcoming with apples and carrots and scratchies and predictable soft tone human noises.

“Alrighty now, darlin’, not trying to scares ya but, I gots some real talk for ya,
and from what I heard we ain’t got much time left.
Pretty sure you done noticed that big ol’ cloud over-yonder there already…
… it’s kinda pretty i s’pose…”

A new kind of panoramia phenomena engulfed their plane of existence; the shed, the fields, the hills and mountains were tinted overtones of olive, shades of emerald and splashes jade from the glowy green light-soaked overcast .
Variable beams of sun-shine sparkled through and throughout the landscape in a slo0ow yellow light show.

Vic shares in awe, “…Can’t believe our eyes right Nally girl?…”

The rain soundscape ahead was brilliant,
quiet, and oxymoronic.

The abnormality of the green glow and shade over everything was pretty spooky.

“that’s got to be at least, ten million fireflies out there under that cloud, haven’t seen not even one in so long…
…we must be dreamin’ together right now, right? That’s a thing we alive things do?…”

Looming silence.
They stood there awestruck, staring.
Nala’s eyes and ears up in attention.
The panoramia was unpausing in its conquest over everything.
From an unreachable distance; it communicated grace and mercy; it commanded fear and admiration.

Vic’s a senior with an old scarred over gunshot wound on his left foot. 
He woke up this morning thinking this was the perfect day to do his thing in town and re-supply himself some; spoil himself a little, break his solitude, see and speak to some people at the shops and stores, maybe check out a new book at the local you know where.
He was anxious to see people again, in society, doing societal things, like talking, walking, moving, and getting bread from the bonjour town bakery that is there, like always.  

Put on his best fitting denim overalls and everything looking forward to this today as he hadn’t left his hidden hermit shed in months.

Vic imagined checking back in, seeing Dorothy again, that would have been a nice way to spend the afternoon. 
She’s nice, she gives him pleasant short talks and memories.
In where society at large has given him unpleasant ones as a Vietnam veteran.

“Naly ehm – I ain’t have no answers for either of us on this here dilemma problem.
It’s anybody’s guess on how or why this is happening.
All’s i can tells you is that them folks in town were ruffled up something awful ‘bout;
armygeddon and the downpour that’s coming.”

Vic partially shares with Nala, “Many folks and neighbors were holding hands out there, crowding together, hugging in the streets…   
…everyone was scared…
…one feller says that before the big switches went out that no one knows what this rain is, they are saying so far that – that when the rain hits
soon it’s going to be judgement time, like, life or death.
Its got miracle powers.
can turn animals into people…
…or randomly kill animals and people….

…So it’s… …yeah. That’s everythin’ I could gather before i left town on the double and i, i guess that everything is…
…is going banana-nut muffins in picnic baskets out there I tell you what…”

Vic curled in a few more spoonfulls of chill-cream and sugar, while he mad-doggs the impossible element blooming in front of him.
Frustrated at the futility and madness of the oncoming situation.
He does the math on best case scenario vs worst case scenario, and the variables inbetween.
Vic looks away from the incoming doom cloud, instead to Nala.

Solid.
Majestic.
Breathing.
Alive.

He tries best he can to keep himself together and mood up, but his hands tremble and remind him that the situation is serious.
Vic presses the bowl to his chest, lowering the risk of it falling down; crashing; spilling.

“I know what they sayin’ makes no sense, but being under green clouds makes no sense either yet here we are ain’t we…
…this may be our last snackety-snack together and uh…
…I’m just uh, scared Naly-girl and-

 

Nala grumpily interrupts with an anxious hungry s’Nicker.

“O’ Dang it you right! Can’t go on and eat all this all by myself now, that wasn’t the plan. 😅
Here’s ya go ya big girl you, i already done ate all the chocolatey part off so it’s all yummy and ready for ya…   so you enjoy this now, take your time…”

Vic compliments Nala as she is eating.

Vic rub rubs and pat pats Nala’s neck as she chows down on the remaining little sugar hills in delight.
She made quick work of the sweets.

“That hits the spot now eh Naly girl? Haha, Good treat ain’t it?  One moment, you’s got some.. …you’s got some mess on you there.
There there ya go now ya big baby face, a little wipetty-wipe make it all better.”

Vic wiped Nala’s rubbery mouth, gave her an affectionate shoulder-to-shoulder bump, and brought the empty bowl back in.

Crisp frost water flowed over his hands, biting into him harder at the tune of the soft breeze coming in from the tiny window by his tiny sink.
Vic feels it, unable to mind it.
He finished cleaning the bowl. Splashes his face but nothing changes.
This isn’t a dream, it’s cold outside and he has to prepare.

Vic goes back outside quilt in hand.

“Alley oop! Nice and comfy for ya dear”
Vic smiles nervously as he throws the quilt over Nala and makes adjustments; with small pulls and tugs here and there to cover her better,

“So I gaves it all a lotta thought on my drive back…
…Kicking the bucket for me is no big whoop, by all means I shouldn’t still be here but, i’m still here right?
That’s a good thing to reckon.  That has to be for something.
It’s you getting hurt, or turning into a person with no one there for ya that’s sloshing my boots.
we gots’ no idea what to expect. Don’t know what’s going to happen.
I want you to be okay, I…
I won’t let this rain hurt ya, I promise.
There’s no need to be worried, it’s all going to be okay.”

Head down, ashamed at making promises he knows he might not be able to keep, Vic rolls dirt over the tip of his boot with his other foot.
draws hanky, blows nose.

Nala nudges her head onto Vics shoulder and beard for scratchies to her face and ears.
Vic complies.
“YeaaaaAh so guooooud, you like that after snack scratchy-scratch don’t ya?”
Vic livens up and chuckles in delight at being in the best of company here and now.

“look at you, so guooooooud scratchy-scratchety-scratches, thAt’s a happy girl!” 😊

Nala’s head melts into him over his low rumble voice and calming tones.

Vic starts to feel deep worry about Nala becoming a person with nobody around in the case that the rain converts her and destroys him.

“Now now, pay attention Nala dear. Don’t know if you can hear me or unders-. Listen, before that rain hits us, this is just in case ok?
Whatever happens happens, so don’t be scared.
In that there shed are books and stuff, some clothes, a gun, and all the food and money I have left.
Cash is under a corner floor board, should be enough to get you by a few weeks.
Them solar panels and buggy batts in the back are going to be important to keep tip-top for the fridge and water-pump. 
Treat the system right and it will be kind right back at ya.
Plenty of tools and scrap stuffs around here, and throughout the area deeper in the tree-lines you’ll see a few mini-gardens and fruit shrubs and apple trees and things.  You know some of them already…”

Vic rubs nala and thinks to himself on what he’s saying to her. 

An eastward breeze from the storm’s direction goes over them, blowing in four leaf clovers and sunflowers in a warm warning.

“… I guess maybe, maybe I shouldn’t leave you the gun? I don’t want you hurting yourself.  I can’t imagine you would know how to use it.
I left it extra high up on the shelf.  Be careful, that thing is dangerous, always point it away from you.
Also, the propane tank adapter sticks sometimes, but if ya hold it bye the-…”

Draws hanky again; more snot.
looking down.
Realizes again he can’t explain everything needed to survive and thrive for Nala in such a short amount of time.
He needs to give simpler advice, and say goodbye.
The goodbye part is a priority, because you never know.

“…Nevermind all tha- I mean, if I don’t make it dear, just know that the shed and buggy are there for you.
If it helps in any way, then that would make everything worth it.
Be careful, always be careful.  Careful of what you are doing and why, and careful with who you meet.  Make sure others are treating you like you treat them, and nothing less.  And also, be sure to lay low and not get any attention until you’re ready to leave, the shed’s not suppo-“

vvvPitter pattervvv

“i guess times up…    ….Gotta tell ya Nala.
You’ve rescued me more times than you’ll ever know.
I mean to say.
You mean the world to me.
Thank you for being there, for being you.
I hope you remember me, that would be a nice thing.
I hope it’s good memories you have and keep, that I did right by you…
…i know i know, i could have hooked it up with more carrots and oats and apples and sugar cubes and what-not…”

Nala snorts at the word apples.

Old man Vic smiles and hugs Nala’s neck and chuckles nervously.
Sadfully. Fearfully.

Nala scratched her forehead on his, bumping Vic slightly off balance with a gentle lovey-dovey headbutt.
“whoah now”, Vic laughs awkwardly over his stifled tears, pulling himself tighter into their embrace.

He hugged close as he could onto Nala’s snout.
hopeless and terrified.
At the terrible thought.
of losing his bestie.

“…It’s all gonna be okay…”

Vvv Pitter-patter vvv pitter-patter vvV
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The pitter-patter enveloped and penetrated over everything in, under and around it.
Countless tiny sword drops rendered all reality to a saturated lemon lime, every tap ghostly, bright and warm.
The crash aura around all outlines were riddled with micro-bursts of thunder rumble, leaving a surreal,
light powdery static that drowned out all noise and tickled the skin.
It was a green screen for the end of days, and It offered peace.

An internal zephyr with the reserves of tornados cleanly separated Vic and Nala’s embrace.

The storm was its own environment, full juggernaut; the harder you fought, the more you felt it.
Old man Vic fought it, he resisted, he gave it all his might.
Mighty as he was, he couldn’t do anything past being locked down on his hands and knees
as he struggled viscerally to go to Nala against the supernatural.

The greenery around him cementing him in place, he heaved like a bull-moose to no gains nor avail whatsoever.
He finally gave out to the air forces engulfed on him as he was lynch-pinned to the earth.
Vic was stuck helplessly under the fire-fly rain in a balasana until finally this impossible show of force began to dissipate.

/\/\/\/\/\/\vvvvvv/\/ \/\/\//\/\ /\/\/vvvvvvvvv/\/\/\/\ \/\/\/\/\/\/\ <>  [   11:11 am   ]  <> \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\//\/\/\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/vvvvvvvvv/\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
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Vvv Pitter-patter vvv pitter-patter vvV

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VvvPitter-pattervvv

The panoramia cleared away.
The local ambiance returned, the ground was not wet, nothing was wetted, and it was getting cold again.
The pitter patter awayed itself and the green scene and clouds it brought let up their anchors on this reality.
he tried calming breaths to work his energies back up as he soldier-prone crawled over to Nala.

Nala is not moving, not breathing.

Nala was stiff, frigid cold, eyes closed, sideways face down on the dirt; with horsey ears, large mane for hair, short peach fuz fur with freckles speckled throughout her body and legs; feathering on her wrists and ankles, and a literal ponytail.  Her body of a young woman was buff, athletic, strong.
She was human now.

Vic’s forearms were heavy and light and his voice desperate,
“Oh dear no, please this isn’t true, this ain’t right”, as he adjusted the quilt to cover her better.

“No no this ain’t happening come on now Naly-bear, you got this. Let’s get you up. You’re okay. Get up now.”
He patted her shoulder for attention, then tried to shake her awake, gently at first, shaking harder and harder as the desperation inside him grew to a quiet crescendo of total unacceptance.

And then came the shame.

Finding himself so rudely imposing on Nala’s sacred moment, invading her space, shaking her lifeless body.
“Naly girl is at peace now. She is at peace now. peace is good. leave her be. rest is good…”

Vic continued to deteriorate physically and mentally into a decrescendo of futility, sobbing apologies, and crushing nihilism over her lifeless mound.

The radio is still softy on in the background.

”” …♪ aaand the microphone smells like beeeeeeeer ♪ …””

At his own incessant internal scolding to respect his dearly departed friend, he toddled himself up and struggled to find balance. 
He stumbled over to his truck and cut the ignition.

“…Cheers buggy…    …Cheers Billie…     …y’all been good to us…     ….rest is good…”

Old man Vic isn’t there anymore. Grenades and mortar and napalm lungs surrounded him again. Cooked death everywhere.  It was back to zombie land vietnam in his head.  There was shooting.  There was screaming and looting.  Killings after killings of huddled humble folks in sandals and sunhats.  small, elderly, defenseless, babies…    …we called them gooks.  Endless plots of rice paddies and dead people.

…Vic found his way back into the shed and drags his step-stool in place.

He patted around, reaching a-top the dusty top shelf for his trusty 1911A1.
Vic mumbles to himself sadly, defeated; “dang pez dispenser is up here somewhere, gotta hurry up and-“

Vic takes pause.

Sobs. Snot. Sleeve-wipes.
More hurt. More sobs.

Vic recalls that there were victims everywhere. The killers and rapists of his company were let loose, made a show of it and then took a lunch break.
So much inhumanity out there. So much unchecked violence.  So easy, too easy, aim and squeeze.  like it was nothing.  Slaughter, like nobody was worth nothing.  sends a message, a loud message.  blood flowed like water.  Mortars in the air.  You can hear it in your…

“….ssssShneeeeeoooooooooouuuuuwwwwweeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”

Old man fell off his make-me-taller and crashed onto the floor in happy surprise.
Hurt like an egg drop, elbow and thigh badly bruised, he tried to get up and there was an ugly sounding back-pop.
knife pains in it. No matter though. His ears weren’t tricking him.
That wasn’t mortar fire overhead, that wasn’t what death sounds like.
something else, something lively.

He was hit with the loudest snore he ever heard and that’s just fine by him any day any lifetime.
he paused in disbelief.
There it was again.
“Rumble grumble – Shneeeeoooooouuuuuwwweeeerrr.”

Vic Joyfully got back up and skippity-limped his way outside to celebrate his friend.
He sees her there. There she is. Alive! Alight!

She was alive alright.

She was taking deep breathes and breathed beautifully.
The floor dust blew out from under her nostrils.

She was snoring on the dirt and any moment now she would be welcomed to a whole new world as Vic tried to wake her.

To then find out, that she was… …completely un-wakeable.

After a few minutes of asking, prodding, shouting, and footsy sole-tickling to no avail, he realized he had to take her inside sooner than not to shelter her from the outside sun and cold.  Vic knows how harsh the elements can be outside of shelter.

With her being kinda bigger than himself, the challenge for Vic was that she was as heavy as she looked.
As motivated as he has ever been, Vic rolled her onto a makeshift dolly he put together and wheeled her inside, wrecking his old joints to his limits trying to get her as gently as possible onto the couch.
It took him a lot of hurt and discomfort, sweaty-slips, loud grunts, a few cuss words and experience in exercising the needed leverage to get her there.

From the couch; he picked out, brushed off and washed clean the dirt and grime off of Nala; and crash dusted the quilt against a fence post and then put it back over her. Helped her head onto the pillow, the work was finished only after she looked nice and comfty👌

Worried that his friend sleeping means she will be waking up eventually, reality caught up to Vic… 

 

…He was a host, she was a guest now.
Nala has nobody else in this world, he was it.

Vic got to anxiously to sewing.  Wiped the place down.  Picked the place up. 
Re-organized and re-decorated a smidge here and there.
He fetched some dry branches for the wood-stove.

Well into that evening Nally woke up sheltered and warm to a well lit room and the sound of cackling fire nearby.
She rubbed the buggers out of her eyes and stretched out wide. 
Satisfying stretchies out of the way, somewhat awake, she held her quilt closely as she sat up and looked around lost, hazey, timid.

Old man Vic tried his best to hold back his jitters at seeing her awake.
As non-threateningly as possible with his palms out and gentle gestures he sat down across from her, lightly bumping the metal coffee table between them along the way.
He tried to speak and act as clearly as he could.

“Hey Nala dear, hello, can you understand me? It’s okay, I’m a friend.”

Nala wakey-drunkenly perked herself up in the couch keeping her body covered, and quickly began gaining alertness. 
Blurs became more solid.  Muffles; distinct.

“I, I don’t know if you can understand me in any way… …, emm-hem, good morning Nala?
I mean, good eve, i mean eh- yeah, good morning Nala, can ya hear me?”

“Jan pona?”

“Wowsers, you can talk!
Okay okay that’s good! but eh, I’m sorry Nala, I don’t know quite what ya sayin’ there.
Emmm, havla la espaniol-o? ohio-go-zamas-toyota? Sin chow?”

Nala smiled in new born confusion.
Nala was unable to understand this animated character’s words, he seems nice, it feels safe in here.
She looks in silent admiration around her, focusing on everything that is here and now.
Nala then begins to get the realization that she does not know where she is,
who she is, or what is what, and starts paying closer attention to the only other alive thing in the area.
Nala felt naive and vulnerable, and was beginning to get a little anxious for guidance on what to expect next.

“Nothing eh? Um, maybe you know french? Like Bon-appetit’ cherries?
Oh dear! eh, oh boy, yeah, this is your first day here.
I mean, your first day here like this, ummmm.
Chucks, what am I gonna- ah! I know! Of course! You must be hungry, you must have worked up an appetite after all that sleeping, let’s start fixin’ us a hot meal for ya just in case right?  See what happens.”

Vic gets up and with gentle expressions makes his way to the kitchen a few feet away.

“I hope you like pork and beans and some coffee maybe?
No no, water would be best for you I mean, you just came to life and all.
I mean, became a person and all… Or maybe you need milk like some kind of baby?… …I don’t have any milk right now and I… …I … don’t think you know what that is…”

Vic thinks to himself while Nala looks at herself, and looks back at Vic and notes Vic does not need his hands to hold his quilts up, it’s shaped differently.
Vic was sensitive to her confusion.

“Yikeys, hold the beans! We needs for you some clothing! Maybe that’s what you were asking about. Where’d I put em again? Ah, right!”

Vic grabs her clothing off the sewing station in the corner and gifts it to her with both hands.

“Here’s some clothing for ya friend. It ain’t much in fashion shows and gala attendances, but they’re clean and should do for now for coverin’ you up.
Here’s ya go now, I’ll turn around and- gah! Nala! Wait just a second!  Sorry!”

Nala had went to receive with both hands the offering and dropped her quilt; Vic push-dropped the clothing on her while shying immediately away, yelling, and hopping a 180 in embarrassment.  Nala reset herself back reflectively in surprise and uneasiness at this sudden change of behavior and loud noises, felt scared, worried, noting the open shed door behind him.
Considering going as fast as she could through it and out the other side into a different unknown.

Vic catches himself for being immature and realizes he was scaring her, this was not a good way of showing her that it’s all going to be okay.

Vic calmly turned back around to face her and went back to slowing his speech and hand movements down and focusing on the problem at hand.

“So sorry shug, it’s okay, it’s okay go on now and get dressed.
This is how you do it. You can do it this way also. oh, and also, if you do this and that way, then this does that and viola would ya look at that! 
If I pull or tug it still stays there.”

Vic did some goofy charade instruction while speaking and made exagerated gestures for getting dressed.
He took off and put back on his jacket, emphasizing his button’s and how they interacted with the slit on the other side.
He then waisted a towel he had nearby and mimicked that it had buttons, making a happy exclamation face clapping and cheering when done.

Vic gestured for her to get dressed while he covered his eyes with his hands and turned around to face the kitchen space, reciting his Mi’maw’s ancient almost extinct lullaby; “one missississippi-sippi dove, two missississippi-sippi bugs, three missississippi-sippi cats, four missississippi-sippi frogs, five missississippi-sippi cows, six mississippi…”

Nala let out an amused smile and laugh at the old man’s charades,games, and rhythms.  She worked on getting herself dressed with renewed interest and ease.

Nala stands up for the first time, eyes wide in fear as she almost fell and grabbed the couch seeking her balance.
Within a few seconds she gets more comfortable around her center of gravity and experiments with little bounces on her legs and foot soles, and shifting her weight around.

With that out of the way.
She took on the red flannel shirt first, made sense of the sleeves and openings, using her memory of Vic’s show for reference, played with the buttons until she finally got the concept and made short work of the rest.

Moving on to the next article, Vic had sown two cream colored bath towels in such as way that it acted like a full length cotton skirt with two huge buttons that held together on the side with slight stretchy tension against her hips.  Nala beamed at the thoughtful gifts; the complexities and transformation coming from the button locks, the feeling of the fresh fit, the downy smell and different soft cloth textures on her micro fur skin and finger tips.
She claps her hands, at first taken back at the impact of her first clap, and then practiced soft impacts to stronger and smiled as loudly as she could to get his attention. 
Nala was standing, triumphant, proud and confident now that she did something for herself.

“…aaaaaaand a hundred and eighty mississippi-sippi bats!”

Vic turned around at the signal of her goofy clapping. 

Nala wasn’t much larger than Vic.
She looked cute and stylish with her big smile visage, farm swag, and imposing physique.

He was stunned by her presence for a moment, never in his life did he imagine he would find himself hastedly making makeshift clothing for a human version of his horsey friend.  He was quick to recover and applauded her achievement in makeshift sign-languages, bouncy energy and celebratory vibes.

Happily relieved that the fit was good, and even happier she was happy about it despite how modest it was.

Nala was gesturing she felt uncomfortable, as if she needed to go to the bathroom.
Vic showed her the small clean bench-toilet-shower space in the rear of the shed behind a curtain as well as a zip-locked bag of baby wipes.
Tomatoe faced, he made simple gestures of going to the bathroom, relief, and highlighted the cleaning wipe purpose.
After the second repeat of this she nodded in understanding and he stepped out of the shed completely to give her space and privacy.

The air is brisk and dense outside.

Vic rubs his sore arm from his fall earlier, doesn’t think anything was broken today but it certainly feels like it. 
The excitement and shock is wearing out and the reality of age old back and body pains is creeping back in.
He meditated on the situation, staring off into everywhere contemplating what was going on and what to do next.  Wondering how Dorothy was handling this remarkable situation, hoping she was okay.

Nala walked out next to Vic, arms crossed against the cold.
She was star-struck from above, the mountain and hill horizons towered over and all around her.
Her world truths at that point were simple for her to appreciate.
It was small and cozy inside, it is big, cold and scary outside.

They quietly kept each other company as they had done for years before.
Nala could feel herself as a small speck, belittled by everything around her except Vic, who has been nice and makes her feel attended.
The outdoors is different.

She could feel the earth slowly dull it’s way up the soles of her footsies. 
She curled her feet to minimize this cold touch effect, occasionally lifting a foot off the ground to slow this pain feeling down.
Nala is hoping he will go back in and welcome her to follow him.

Vic snaps back to Nala shivering, and is kicking himself for not having prepared any shoes for her in advance.

Vic blew some dragon steam in the air for Nala’s quick amusement, and kindly invited her to go back in with him, pointing out that the floor without shoes like his is ouchies so they needed to hurry.

Inside, Vic gets back to trying to be helpfull and fills the air with more of his noises.

“Brrrrrrrrr.   It’s colder than a popsicle divorce out there.  Now now Naly-girl, can’t go to the bathroom and not wash your hands after, that ain’t proper now. Gotta play it safe against them germs and practice a fancy word called; hygiene.
Getting sick out here in the boonies can be dangerous, so we gotta keep them bad bugs at bay”

Vic showed her to wash her hands in the foot-pump sink with the fast orange degreaser soap and water.
Nala was momentarily enchanted by the smell and disappearing graininess of it. 

Vic gifted her a yellow hand-towel to keep and magically pat herself dry with.

He invited her to be at ease on the couch and she gladly complied, returning to wrapping the quilt around her shoulders and tucked her feet into herself to fight off the frosty lingers from the outside world.
Old man Vic placed a full cup of luke-warm water in front of her, motioning on how to drink it and that it was ok and tasty.

Vic excused himself with Nala and turned around to the kitchen and got on his humble routine of preparing the cookware, pulling a can out the shelf, and matching alight the stove.

Nala was impressed for a moment by the propane hiss and blue flames floating and waving sharply over the stove-top.
Quick to get back to the silver cup in front of her, she grabbed it with both hands but in a surprise tumble she spilt some water on the table, floor and herself. Vic pretended not to notice as she clumsily landed the cup back onto the table, splashing more water out.  Alarmed, and armed with her personal yellow hand-towel and firsthand experience in its water removing powers, she went on to rub the puddles off.

Seeing signs of success, she felt calmer in her nerves and begins testing and rationalizing what happened. She practiced picking the thin metal cup gentlier up and down on the table, fascinated that even though it was so small it was noticeably heavier than the shirt she had on, which was way much bigger.
The way it varied in noise when it hit the table; the more careless she was, the more offensive the sound to her ears.
More quiet means more careful. Being careful sounds better.

Nala more confidently took back up the cup this second time around, switching to holding it one handedly on each hand to show-off to herself that it can be done and she’s got this.  She gave it a small squeeze and the cup was starting to bend and deform under her grip, and she quickly let go not knowing what could happen if she tried squeezing it further, it felt a little delicate in her hand. She remembers Vic’s lesson from a few moments ago on what to do, to bring it to her mouth.

The water went in, her breathing inside the cup was more audible, she then felt the glug glug glug.
She relaxed and instinctually drank with paused rhythmic breathing.

The unique smell, eyes closed, lips on the edge; control; all her other senses melted with and into the flows and enjoyment of water.
She thought to herself, this is telo.  Telo washes outside.  Telo washes inside.  Telo is good.  Telo li pona.

She stopped after a few small satisfying sips, she didn’t want to risk finishing it all at once, there was only a little left.

The flames had gone out in the kitchen and Vic had swapped out the gas canisters while Nala was on her water adventure.
Seeing an opportunity to acclimatize Nala to some nouns around him, Vic began showing and telling.

“Now Naly girl this here is a can-opener, it’s a tool with a purpose, this particular one is called ‘Fred’, you just hold it like this, apply some of this here lieverage, and then work your way on and around like sooo….     …aaAnd there!”
Vic emphasized while opening the can.  Nala observed attentively Vic’s use of ilo Fred.

“We can now get the food out this can, just be careful though, these edges can get mighty ouchy if we’re careless”
Naly listened to the elder bro in front of her, his actions, how they matched with his words, trying to follow and understand, amazed at how he used Fred in his hands to do things that looked complicated and evidently dangerous…    …her mind wonders, sneaking in the sights around her, what other curious ilo things are out here in this tomo…

Vic continues as he serves, “Mi’maw always said, we all ‘Always gotta make the most of what we got, every last drop’. 
So we gotta make sure to scrape off every bit we can and not let anything go to waste now.”
Vic worked the wooden spoon around the can, getting as much into the pot as possible.

Sliced up an onion next to add in, he popped a raw sliver in his mouth and offered another one to Nala as an appetizer.
She gave a little nibble at the edge, from there she slowly marched her way through crunchy town until there was no more kili lili left.
She could taste bits of telo inside of it. Little odd kick to it in her mouth. Felt good. Vic noticed the positive reception and gave her a bigger sliver to enjoy.

”Moku!”

“Ha! Yeah! That’s an onion! I mean, Eh, maybe? Unless that means food? That would make more sense probably right now, sure sure!
Moku! Mooooookuuuuu is fooooooood. and Fooooooood is mooookuuuu.”
Vic balanced imaginary words in his hands while sounding out his point.
Nala reciprocated with giggles and imitation, she playfully looked at one hand and said “fooooooood” and in the other said “moooooookuuuuuu”.
They were amused at the balancing scales of food, moku and mutual understanding.

The smell of moku food filled the tomo-stead area; competing for Nala’s attention over Vic’s unintelligible masterclass in life-hacks and warnings in using fire, sharp things and cooking.  Closed eyes Nala sighes out unnoticed from her scent trip, “pona kon”.

She popped the entire bigger onion slice into her mouth at once and enthusiastically chewed away, little pieces settled everywhere, this was a biggly mistake, she caught a much stronger singe experience than she was expecting and didn’t know what was happening.
She tried to breathe it out roughly with her nose and mouth, looking silly as she did so.
Scared and worried if the taste will ever settle down or if she is doing something wrong and things could get worse.

Vic notes this and calms her down.

“Ha! Poor little gus-gus, it’ll get better soon, it’s alright now”. Vic smiled and motioned it’s alright and rubbed his belly and fanned his mouth with his hand.
Nala felt better at his response, made her feel that this was normal if not careful with this kind of moku.
She was further calmed by the prickling pain on the insides of her cheeks and tongue receding.

Vic started simmering things down, turned the stove off.
“Aaaaand here we go! 0ut the fire, sizzley pot, fresh food for you, careful it’s h0t!”
He delicately presented the pot to Nala in front of her, resting it on the coffee table.
Steam steaming out.

Victor gave quick taps to the hot pot with his finger, theatrically flinching with pain on contact; “Ouch! Ouch! Hot parts means ‘OUchies’!  No touch here ok?” He then waved his hand over the steam coming from it, expressing caution with it, and a big cheek blow over it.

Nala laughed with the show he put on, but quickly went from entertained to curious to the dangerous ilo palisa in front of her.
How much ouchies can it be?  Is it like outside cold ouchies?
When Vic turned around to look for a spoon she went for a quick tap on the pot, but rather than tap she touched, burned her finger, winced in pain and squeaked “OUchies!” immediately before putting her finger in her mouth.
She squints and smiles, satisfied in confirming it’s all about speed and she needs to be much faster next time to be at Vic’s level.

Vic chuckles at her.

“Them ouchies is right! and we appreciate what respect means now a little better don’t we? No better teacher than pain is what i’ve heard.”
They both smiled and giggled at each other. More mutual and effective communication was happening.

“Here Naly-bear, use Fred’s s-p’ooooooon end for your moku.”
Vic presented the spoon side and then fished onto the spoon a solitary bean, following with blow expressions on the steam over it, and carefully handed it to Nala’s receiving hand. “There you go now; now you try”.

Bringing the spoon to her face, Nala blew repeatedly over it, to which Vic corrected her with hand signals and words to blow lower and slower onto the bean itself, then gave her an encouraging smile, wink and thumbs up.  Nala laughed at the expression combo, almost dropping her bite, but recovered somewhat gracefully and went on to explore her first hot bean. She scrunched her shoulders and face in appreciation of the squish-smwoosh and light burning sensation to her tongue and the roof of her mouth, getting a little nervous as the bean got hotter to the point of borderline pain.

The taste was suwi and she enjoyed it, but there was a nuanced bitter trace she was not fond of that wasn’t enough to ruin it, but was there.
She eagerly tried for another bite, investigating a piece that looked a little different from the one she just had. She picked it up individually and blew on it until there was less steam, then put in her mouth but found the taste overwhelming and bitter. As quickly and as gently as she could, and ashamed, spit it into her hand. She desperately tried to wash the taste out by putting the plate back down and getting some water, but as she poured water in her mouth she ended up choking on it, coughing, getting scared.
Vic reacted by gently moving to her and gave her small pats on her back, “it’s alright, it’s alright.
There there”

Nala felt better with his assistance as she recovered her breath. She did not know what to do next, it didn’t feel right having this bad tasting food bit in her hand, this was the first wrong thing Vic had given her and she didn’t know how to give it back.  She didn’t want to give it back to him.  If she didn’t like it, he probably wouldn’t like it neither.  But if he doesn’t like it, why would he give it to her?

Vic offered his hand to take the spit-bit from her and with embarrassment on her face she nodded and allowed it.
He then comforted her, did a quick clean up near her, and pointed as a suggestion that she use her hand-towel to wipe off while he took her water cup.
Vic threw the chewed up piece out the shed window by the sink. He washed his hands and refilled Nala’s cup of water.
Having Learned where the ike taste came from, she avoided those bits and went back to the beans, contemplating to herself how much better this moku would’ve been without them.

She tried the familiar looking onion pieces next, this time it is seli, playing with the texture getting crushed between her front teeth, amazed that the feel and flavor are not exactly the same but still enjoyable in it’s own way. She continues to eat with gusto, experimenting with the percentages of bean vs onion ratio in her spoon, increasing in size and shovel speeds proportionally to the decrease in heat and pleasure of taste.

Nala finds herself taken away in feelings of delight; of being aware, and of being aware of being aware, and mixing stuff up.
Nala felt cozy, protected, and overtly comforted with a mouth full of hot moku and a new cup of telo.
Bite after bite and swish swish was more bliss.
Nala joyfully stuffed her face.

Old man Vic gave her her space to take it all in, both of them in continued awe and wonder of their new realities.

“mmmmmmmm Pona moku! Pona moku!”,
Nala smiles and claps in playful appreciation.

“Alright alright, I see what you’re sayin’, you like it so pona must mean tasty. What about that there pork you skipped?”, Vic points closely at the leftovers, “wha’dya think about those pieces?”
“Ike moku ike moku” she exclaimed with disagreement face and hands ex’ing. “porkyuskipt ike moku”
“Roger that roger that, yeah, I kinda gathered the pork didn’t sit so well with you.
Ok, so Poooonaaaa is taaaaastyyyy and ikeeeee is yuuuuuucky.”

Nala points at the pork she left over and declared “Juki!” and shook her head with disagreeable toad face.

Vic nods in full understanding, “Ah! Yes, that is yucky, maybe lets point at stuff and follow along”, Vic points to another can, “can you say fooooood?”

“Fffoooooood” 😃
“That’s right! Very good! now can you say taaaaaaasty?” vic smiled and rubbed his jolly belly making yum yum noises.

“Fffoooooood!” 😃
“No, can you say –“

“-Moku? Fffooooooood?” 😁

“Oh dear! Yes yes, of course, should’a known that lil’ bit wasn’t going to fill that tank up. Lets get ya a heartier plate now shall we?”
Vic took Fred and the pot back to the kitchen space, picked out the pork, set em to the side and then cooked silently this time to allow Nala some peace and zen…

Vic thinks to himself on how he has to cut his gabbing back as she learns, and be more mindful and purposeful of his words and how he uses them.

He chopped up his last onion and threw it in the pot with the beans, stirring and picking out any pork bits he could find while cooking.

He scavenges from the counter area some cilantro and slices up a couple of small potatoes feeling confident she would be fine with these.

Nala remained in the couch, looking at her hands, tracing her fingers over with her other fingers, measuring amount of fingers and comparing her hands to Vic’s hands, and reasons that if Vic shares the same fingers as her she also can do what Vic was doing, and began imagining herself cooking and made believe with her hands she had a pot over a flame, and it was dangerous and seli, and in her mind she was smooth with her clanging and scraping and was stirring the pona moku inside it with the long wood spoooooooon ilo.

Vic merrily turns off the stove once again.

“Aaaaaaaaaand out the fire! sizzley sizzle poppety pop, fresh fooo000eehhem i mean mooookuuuuu pona and hot! Alrighty then, there ya go ol’ girl… …I mean, Ms. Nala.”
Nala greedily looked at the pot of delicious steamy beans and onions, potatoes and little green things floating around, bubbling hot, and a slightly more attractive smell.
 She then saw Vic’s hard and weathered face sitting across from her.

Nala understands he is a jan like her, everything she feels he must also, she is here and has no idea what is going on, but he makes her feel like she is welcome there. He had eaten a little peace before, while she had eaten bigger size mokus.  He has moku here because it is his tomo place, and he likes what is here. She was bothered by the thought that Vic was not able to enjoy because she was enjoying, that he was not eating because she was eating.  She imagined if they both blew on the big steam together, the food would get colder faster, and they could eat more and enjoy more faster, and that would be a good thing for everyone.  She didn’t know how to express this to him.  At the very least she reasons, he should eat some first and she can eat after he does.  Hopefully he won’t eat everything off the plate like she did earlier.

She improvised, like he would do, with hands and gestures.

Careful not to burn herself, she gently pushed the pot towards Vic using the hand-towel to shield her fingers, expressing with her open palms and body to him that he should have some and eat. Nala wore worry on her face as she looked at him.

“No no, its fine, eat up Nala, enjoy please. please, bon appetite dear.”
Vic smiled, inflated his cheeks and patted his gut as if it was larger that it really was.
Nala eased into a smile and nodded her head and brought the pot back to herself, blowing the thick steam off desperately like you do a trick candle. 
She was hoping he would understand that it was very hot and he would help her, but he didn’t pick up on that.

Nala thought to herself that she was going to have to work harder to understand Vic’s gibberish and communicate at his level.
She needed to prioritize the link between the noises he makes and its obvious cause and effect on reality. 

As much as she wanted and tried to hurry up and eat, the blowing efforts were not as effective as she had hoped.
Nala slowed her role as she ate, fascinated by this extra nuance and surprise ingredient that wasn’t there before.  The moku cans must be similar but different she figures.

Vic reflects in his seat while she eats.

On how much the world has changed outside of this tucked away trailer shed and plot.
On the limited resources he has.
On Nala being safe and supported.

“Yaaaawn”, Nala bellowed sweepy like and hovered over the empty pot with a drowsy glaze; lips-smacking, tongue fishing for pieces inside her mouth, itis on her brain.

“Feeling sleepy now eh? Ready for bed, Like this?” Vic acted out closing his eyes with sideways prayer hands”

“a! lape pona”

“That’s right! Laaape pona, Yaaaaaaaawn. I am feeling tuckered out as well you know. Wait, did you say sleep is tasty?”

Nala sleepily smiled eyes dozing out half-shut, wrapped the quilt around her like a big fat caterpillar and rolled herself into the couch, pillow nice and comfty, and drifted-off.

Vic hears Nala kick her unique snoring back up and feels like crying in eternal gratitude.

Old man Vic went into his stash drawer and stepped out into the glacial air outside, not knowing in what direction to put his thousand-yard stare into, eyes burnt up from the air-chill and exhaustion. He exhaled clouds of magic dragon steam. close eyes.
Vic didn’t know how long he had been standing out there when he opened his eyes back up. He was returning from a blank drift. He took a deep breath of the freezing air to give him a small energy bolt. He went back inside and ate the cold leftover pork pieces from earlier and was able to scrape up a few spoons of bean residue Nala missed out on.

He gave the kitchen, pot and Fred an unenthusiastic clean and fixed himself a makeshift bed on the floor out of a few dirty clothes and two sheets.

He comforts himself asleep knowing nala is alive, the day is over, the best outcome happened.
That the world is spinning on.
Best birthday ever.

Vic turned 75 today.