A Poet Man And The Witch

Chapter II; A Man With Blood-ish Red Hair

My days in the forest have been covered in solitude, but today feels different. The new presence of a weird guy with blood-red hair, and the cabin that has been abandoned for years also have a new story today.

Peter busied himself around the cabin, humming softly as he made small repairs and adjustments, while I watched from a distance, still unsure what to make of this stranger. He was unlike anyone I had ever met-open, cheerful, and seemingly kind.

My mind filled with curiosity as I observed him and this cabin. Who is this guy and how did he get here? Who abandoned this cabin but Is this really abandoned?
I noticed his eyes glancing at me a few times. I stand awkwardly on my spot, with Kongkong sitting quietly beside my feet.

I had been walking with my only companions-the moon, who faithfully followed me every night, and Kongkong, the thousand-year-old black cat. The cold of the forest still seeped into my bones, and the dirt and mud clung to my bare feet with every step.

But everything changed yesterday, when I stumbled into an abandoned cabin nestled among towering trees, near a vast lake with an old, deserted boat. The ground of the yard was littered with dry leaves and tree twigs, yet I let my bare feet follow the path that led me to this unexpected refuge.

It was the first time I had encountered another person after months of running away from society. The first time someone had looked at me, smiled, and spoken to me. It felt surreal, like a vivid dream.

Now, he's busy trying to clean the cabin's living room-a strange sight, this red-haired guy with a maroon cape and light brown trousers. He blinked several times as the dust irritated his eyes, looking oddly out of place. Everything about him seemed weird to me. Where did this guy, Peter Phineas, come from?
"So, how long have you been lost in this forest? I've been wandering around for about a week, I think," he said, attempting to break the awkward silence.

"Two years," I replied in a flat, almost lifeless tone.

My words seemed to stun him. His jaw dropped, and he froze in place, eyes wide as he stared at me in disbelief. "Be serious, Willow. You must be lying or miscalculating the time," he said, his face a picture of shock.

"I don't lie about what I've lived through," I replied calmly.

"How old are you?" he asked, leaning forward, his curiosity serious and intent.

I instinctively pulled back slightly, avoiding his gaze as my eyes darted around, unsure and nervous. "You don't need to know that... not yet."

"For real?" he asked, still struggling to believe me.
I nodded.

"But how did you keep track of the years? How did you survive without starving or dying of thirst? And just how big is this forest that you've been lost in for two years?"

"I counted the time by the phases of the moon and the changing seasons," I explained.
"I survived by picking fruit from the trees and drinking water from the lake, rivers, or even rain. I also fasted when I had to." I paused, then added, "As for the size of this forest... I'm not sure."
I fell silent after that, having said all I needed to.

"How did you deal with wild animals and the cold of winter?" he asked, his eyes unblinking, curiosity overtaking him. His face showed just how hard it was for him to believe my story, and his shoulders were tense as he listened intently.

"Wild animals can be better than people," I replied, my tone steady.

"But I haven't found any, just a few snakes and bugs. When autumn comes, I will find shelter under a rock, Kongkong curls up on my feet for warmth, and I build a bonfire to keep us warm."