just some sort of gentle giant. He tossed the last peach tartlet into open jaws before licking his plate clean, and in doing so caking his muzzle with remains of sticky condiments. After raising his mug to take a few noisy slurps, he sucked each claw; then his pink tongue set to work on cleaning out the cavities of his satisfied grin. Wiping his chin with his napkin, which would have served in normal sizes as a tablecloth, he looked me over ruefully. “You’ve had me really worried running high temperatures this past week. There I was, mopping your brow, thinking you’d be gone at any moment. All I’ve been able to sustain you with are medicinal concoctions, royal jelly and honey. What a relief not to have had to resolve that problem of where to bury you.” His words reminded me of sore swelling on my forehead along with many other pains. By contrast, it was gratifying compensation to feel how nourishment had relieved the gnawing hunger from within. “Then I owe being alive to you?” I uttered these words in little more than a whisper. “Well, that’s as maybe. Anyway you’re here speaking with the living, which’s what counts,” he replied benevolently. On draining the pot of tea into his mug, he moved over to the armchair, which he turned towards me before sitting back in comfort. The cat looked up at him, stretched, yawned and went back to sleep. Between gulps, he talked at length: “I’m Bruno the Serrano bear of Montevivo, and this is my humble home.” Continuing, he detailed my rescue along with information about where we were. Montevivo and the surrounding mountains were an environment with many resources. It was evident that he was enjoying telling me them and despite not understanding every detail, I felt growing affection towards my saviour.
26