Matt had stayed behind at the house. He'd forgotten to prep the salt the night before.
Autumn had already arrived, and with the cold not far off, he needed to finish the salt licks and get the feeders ready for the animals. He was late this year because of the fires. It had been a bone-dry summer, and a few times the local kids had set the brush on fire; luckily, they'd spotted it immediately, so the woods didn't suffer too much. But it was a massive headache. In winter and early spring, the wildlife doesn't just need food—they need plain old salt, which Matt usually scattered in special troughs throughout the summer. He wanted to finish today; only the far sector was left.
"Can't let the rabbits down," the ranger muttered to himself, swinging his pack onto his back.
He hurried into the woods, heading straight for the distant salt licks. He'd patrol the rest of the territory afterward; there was no rush then. It was only early September, the sun didn't set too early yet, and he'd be able to head home at a steady pace while keeping an eye on the forest. He'd enjoy the walk while these unusually hot September days lasted. After putting out the salt, Matt spotted a doe in the distance and stood still, admiring her. She watched him warily, on high alert. Afraid. Well, that was only right—no sense in getting used to humans. Not everyone loved animals as much as he did. He was strictly against hunting.
He knew there wasn't much he could do about it, but whenever the opportunity arose, he tried to keep the forest dwellers safe. He hated traps most of all; the animals suffered terribly in them. By the time a hunter came for his prey, the creature would have endured hours of agony. Ever since he'd pulled a she-wolf out of a trap years ago, he'd started looking for them. Sometimes he found hidden traps and hauled them out of the woods. In his five years as a ranger, he'd come to love both the forest and its inhabitants. He tried not to eat meat. He met so many different animals, looked them in the eye, and they understood everything. How could anyone say they don't have souls? Sometimes they were smarter than people. There was one old boar Matt called "The General."
He'd been friendly with him since last spring. Matt always kept a little treat in his bag; he liked feeding squirrels by hand. If he ran into a little critter, he'd give it a snack. He'd once tossed some acorns to the boar, and after that, the animal often met him, waiting for a treat. Sometimes Matt would joke that he had nothing left, but the General would nudge the bag with his snout, smelling the food. You couldn't fool a beast. A snapping branch sounded off to the side, catching Matt's attention. He peered curiously into the brush to see who was running there, continuing to walk while looking over his shoulder. He tripped over a massive gnarled root, lost his footing, and tumbled over it. As luck would have it, there was a short, rocky slope right there. He tumbled down, bruising his sides—it hurt, but it wasn't fatal. He poked around, realized nothing was broken, and laughed at his own carelessness. Like a child, always gawking at everything.
He calmed down and started to get up, but a flash of pain so sharp shot through his leg that he actually whimpered. Once the initial shock faded, he tried to stand again. No luck—any movement was agonizing. He tried to figure out how to stand on just the other leg, but that didn't work either; the pain radiated through his entire body. It looked like a serious fracture. He wasn't getting out of here on his own. There was probably no cell service, and he felt embarrassed to call Search and Rescue anyway. An experienced ranger, making such a rookie mistake. He immediately remembered how his colleague, Andrew, used to mock him: "What kind of ranger are you? They need strong men out there, and you're just a retired teacher. Spent your whole life moving from classroom to classroom, and now you think you can hike miles of forest? You should've stayed on your pension and stayed put. You'll fall in the middle of nowhere and no one will ever find you." Andrew had a mean streak; even the local kids didn't like him. He only laughed at other people's mistakes.
Matt brushed the thought aside. What did "falling" even mean? A ranger doesn't fall; he embraces the earth. He patted the grass with his hand and smiled. He took what happened as a chance to rest. He'd worked in the woods for five years, even during his vacations. Where else was he going to go? Everything he needed was right here—the fresh air, the nature. He could sit for a while. He sat, but eventually, he knew he had to get home. Matt finally pulled out his phone. No signal, just as he thought. He settled in as comfortably as he could and decided to wait.
It was the season for hikers and mushroom pickers; maybe someone would pass by. He'd seen plenty of good mushroom spots while walking. Someone was bound to wander over. But darkness fell, and no one appeared. To keep from losing heart, he decided to reminisce about his life. He was sixty-five now. He'd been a ranger for five years—took the job right after retiring. Before that, he'd been a shop teacher. He'd also run a chess club twice a week. He'd loved working with the younger generation, instilling a love for manual labor in them. If a teacher is inspired by their subject, the kids show interest too. There are no bad kids; you can make a good person out of anyone. The main thing is attention and finding the right approach. Of course, it's hard work—not everyone wants to put in the effort, and many teachers don't bother. They paint everyone with the same brush: if they don't understand the subject, they must be stupid.
But Matt had been persistent with every single one of them. If it doesn't work this way, let's try another. There was this kid, Danny—his father had died young, and his mother raised him alone. All the teachers had turned against him, telling his mother to send him to a reform school, that nothing good would come of him. But Matt felt for him. He gave him extra tips in class, caught him during breaks, and asked for his help. After class, he'd secretly share new findings with him. Together, they built a hidden safe. Danny grew up. Now he's a businessman. He started by making furniture himself, then expanded and eventually opened a small factory. If no one had cared about him, how would his life have turned out? A smile touched Matt's face. He remembered every one of his students. Some came back to visit him after school to tell him what they'd achieved. He would have kept working at the school; his age was no hindrance. But the principal found a replacement—hired his nephew right out of teachers' college. He hinted that it was time for the old teacher to retire. Matt never started a family, and rather than be bored and lonely in the city, he decided to move to the countryside. A friend had called just then, saying they were looking for a ranger—why not give it a shot?
The shop teacher had proudly told his colleagues he was moving to the forest to work as a ranger. The gym coach didn't miss the chance to laugh at him. But that was in the past. Matt didn't regret leaving. He missed the kids at first, but then he got used to it, and there was so much work that first year. Besides his ranger duties, he had to repair his parents' old house. His father had been a ranger too and had built the house himself. But his parents had passed away long ago. There was no one to look after the place; he'd only visited occasionally on vacation. But coming for the summer is one thing—living there full-time is another. Without care, a house withers: the wallpaper peels, cracks appear in the exterior. There was too much work to be sad. Now he'd even gotten around to the roof. He needed to patch it before the cold set in. His leg throbbed, pulling Matt's thoughts back to the present. He winced in pain and tried to stand one more time, but failed. He reached into his bag; there were a few sunflower seeds left. He started cracking them to distract himself from the pain. Somewhere in the distance, wolves began to howl.
Matt thought back again to the she-wolf in the trap. When he'd approached her, she'd started snarling, protecting herself. He began talking softly to the beast, and she calmed down as a cub peeked out from behind her. It was clear why she was lashing out at a human with such fury. But he sat there talking for a long time, and she settled. He carefully pried her paw from the trap. The mother and cub immediately bolted. But the cub stopped, looked back, and stared into Matt's eyes for a few seconds. Matt noticed one of its ears was notched, as if bitten. Later, he'd run into the grown wolf a few times. He noticed that if he went deep into the woods where no one else was around, the wolf would watch him from a distance. But he hadn't seen the grey one in the last year. He hoped the animal had just forgotten him and was doing well. It was very late now.
He began to drift off. Other memories of life situations floated through his mind, but they were hazy now. Then he saw his wolf in a dream. They were sitting in a clearing, and Matt was reporting to the wolf that he'd set out the salt licks and prepped everything for the winter. The wolf nodded approvingly and started licking Matt's face. That's what woke him. He opened his eyes and saw a wolf's face right in front of him. Matt tried to sit up, but his leg pinned him down. The wolf watched him calmly. Matt saw it was the same one—the notched ear. Matt smiled. He looked the beast in the eye and thought to himself, You're alive, my friend. Good! And I've run into some trouble here with no help. I'll lie here until morning; maybe some mushroom pickers will show up.
The wolf seemed to be listening to his thoughts. It stood silently before him for a moment, then turned and vanished. Matt sighed. He was glad the wolf was alive, and he wasn't too worried about himself. If no hikers showed up, his supervisors would sound the alarm and start looking. He'd be fine. He drifted off again, but not for long. His leg hurt unbearably. He even started whimpering like a wolf himself. He lay there for two hours—he had no strength left to sleep or stay awake. Suddenly, he heard a voice calling out. Matt shouted back. Calling to each other, his neighbor, Brian, approached. He lived nearby in a summer house; they were good friends. In the fall, Matt would show him the best spots to find mushrooms. Brian, seeing his friend in trouble, called over another man. It was a visiting hunter staying near Brian's place. They sent him for help.
The hunter returned with his brother, bringing a cart. They loaded the injured man onto it and hauled him to the car. While they waited for help, Brian told him, voice trembling with nerves, how he'd found him in the woods at night. He'd been sleeping soundly in his bed when he woke up with a feeling of intense anxiety, as if someone was calling him. He couldn't understand where the feeling was coming from, but a chill ran down his spine. He looked outside, and a massive wolf was standing in front of his house, staring at him. Brian was terrified at first, but the wolf turned, walked a little way off, looked back at him, and walked further. It did this several times. Brian realized the beast was leading him. A different kind of anxiety took hold. The wolf wasn't showing him this for nothing. Maybe someone was in danger. Brian ran to his neighbor, the hunter. He woke him up and said they had to follow the wolf to see what happened. To protect themselves from wild animals, he asked the hunter to bring his rifle. The two men set off after the wolf, and the beast led them straight to Matt.
***
Matt listened and wept. The wolf hadn't forgotten that he'd saved him and his mother. He'd repaid the favor in kind. Animals have such incredible character. It was a matter of honor—to pay back the debt to his savior. Matt was taken to the hospital. It was a good thing they were on time; it turned out to be a comminuted fracture with vascular damage that caused internal bleeding. He had to stay in the hospital. They said at least three weeks. He was upset, of course. He thought he'd die of boredom rather than the bleeding. Three weeks of staring at a peeling ceiling in a ward—no sky, no stars, no forest. But his roommate caught his eye. A kid, about eighteen. He was in traction, staring at his phone, not talking to anyone. And fair enough—the rest of the room was full of old men. Five other beds with boring old guys or people close to it. But something about the kid intrigued Matt. He decided to strike up a conversation. The boy just introduced himself as Ryan and spoke reluctantly, making it clear he didn't want to be bothered.
In the evening, an elderly woman came to visit him. She brought food in glass jars. The smell of homemade soup made Matt's stomach growl. The boy, however, took a disgruntled sip and grimaced. He looked through all the jars she brought, pulled out a pastry, poured some milk, and ate in silence. Matt felt awkward watching his neighbors, but in a hospital ward, you see and hear everything. The woman gave her grandson advice, scolding him gently for being irresponsible. He just grunted in response, waving off her lectures.
Matt knew how to handle kids. He decided to intervene; he felt sorry for the old woman. Once the grandmother left, he scooted over to Ryan and started talking about life. He said he was the same way—his mother used to coddle him so much it was a burden, and he was embarrassed in front of his friends when she'd pack him pastries. But now he'd be happy to eat a homemade pastry, but his mother and friends were gone. All he had was hospital tea. "You're lucky to have family," he said. Ryan remained silent. After a while, he called Matt over and said, "Maybe you'd like some soup? I'm not going to eat it anyway, and it'll make my grandma happy if it doesn't go to waste." Matt said he didn't want to take the boy's food. But Ryan insisted. Then Matt said, "Let's play a game of chess. If I win, the soup is mine." Ryan laughed and said he didn't know how to play chess at all. "No problem, I'll teach you."
Matt pulled out his travel chess set, sat down next to the boy, and started explaining the moves. He won the portion of soup. Then they started playing for the porridge. Ryan was a bright kid, but he obviously couldn't beat a pro. And Matt knew how to do more than just win a game. Long story short, the boy had to eat the porridge. The kid cheered up. That evening, Matt told him about the great grandmasters and how much they earned—how the game develops logic, which is great for analytical thinking, memory, and plenty of other useful things. The next day, after Ryan's grandmother left, they played for pea soup and meatloaf with buckwheat. This time, the "great grandmaster" Matt let the boy win the soup. He made excuses, saying his old spark was gone, probably because he was getting old and hadn't had a good opponent in a long time. He shared the won meatloaf with the boy. A week later, Ryan was happily chatting with his grandmother about life. When the elderly woman left, a tear rolled down her cheek.
The three weeks didn't pass boringly. Ryan was almost actually beating his teacher. They agreed to continue the lessons over Skype, as is the fashion now. Matt was discharged from the hospital, but his leg hadn't fully recovered. Winter was coming, and he still hadn't patched the roof. There were no utilities in the house. To heat the stove, he had to carry wood from outside. There was no water in the house either—the well was in the yard, and the bathroom was outside. He wouldn't be able to manage; walking was hard. And to get groceries, he'd have to go to the other end of the village. His friend Brian was moving back to the city for the winter, so there was no one else to help. Working as a ranger was out of the question. Now, forget about hiking miles of forest—even walking across the yard was difficult. He had to return to the city. Although his tiny apartment was in a rough neighborhood, it had everything he needed to live. It was a good thing it was on the first floor, too, since there was no elevator in the old five-story building.
Maybe by spring, he'd be back on his feet and could return to the country. The main thing was to survive the cold; it would be easier after that. Now he had a student, he'd taken on the responsibility, and he had to see the boy through—get him into college and make his grandmother proud. For soup like that, the boy should be carrying her in his arms, Matt laughed to himself. As sad as he was to return to the city, there was no other way. He'd gotten used to nature, and living in the city bustle again was hard. When Brian was leaving his summer house, Matt asked him for a ride. On his last night, the former ranger walked slowly into the woods with his bag of supplies, scattered some nuts for the squirrels, and said a silent goodbye until spring.
***
As he was leaving, he felt a gaze on his back. He turned and saw two glowing wolf eyes behind the trees. Life goes on, the former ranger smiled. Matt limped to the window of his one-room apartment. There was a layer of dust and a lone flower pot with parched earth on the windowsill. He hurried to the hallway. He rummaged through his bag and carefully pulled out a small tomato plant wrapped in a wet cloth. It had grown randomly in the yard—a seed must have fallen and sprouted. Matt didn't grow vegetables himself; he had no knack for gardening. Sometimes his neighbor Brian would share his harvest.
Matt was good with his hands, but when it came to growing things, he believed he had a "heavy hand." Nothing ever grew. That pot in the kitchen—a geranium had died in it five years ago, a gift from a neighbor. It had just sat there on the window ever since. But he felt sorry to leave the tomato to the winter. It would freeze, and it was precious to him—the first vegetable he'd ever grown. To be honest, it was a long way from being a vegetable, and it had grown by accident, but Matt had dug it up and brought it with him.
Now he wouldn't miss the forest quite as much. He'd found something to take care of for the winter. He filled a glass with water and poured it into the pot. It felt strange to have it flowing from a tap, not having to go to a well and lug a bucket into the house. He'd already gotten out of the habit. He turned on the hot water—it had that, too. Now he'd unpack his things, clean up, maybe soak in a hot bath to wash off the dirt. He laughed to himself. Otherwise, if Clara, his elderly neighbor, found out he was back and came to visit, she'd think he wasn't a former ranger but a wild forest spirit—unshaven and unwashed. He limped back to the bag, but seeing the tomato in his hand, he realized he'd forgotten it and laughed again. Why be gloomy? He'd sit out the winter and head back to the village in the spring. The main thing was not to sit still; he'd keep moving bit by bit, and everything would heal. He poked a hole in the pot with a fork and tucked the rescued tomato plant inside.
Even though the apartment was small, cleaning it made it feel like a penthouse suite. Matt was exhausted. He'd skipped lunch and didn't feel like eating, but there was nothing anyway. While cleaning, he found a bag of buckwheat in a kitchen cabinet. Healthy. Plus, Brian had given him some pickled watermelon from the farm. So, an excellent bachelor's dinner was on the horizon. After a pleasant bath, he put the buckwheat on to boil. Just as he'd served himself a plate of porridge and sat down, the doorbell rang. Unexpected guests—maybe they had the wrong door. He opened it, and there was Clara. "His young old lady," as Matt fondly called his neighbor. She was in her early sixties, but had the energy of a young girl. Clara smells like home, Matt thought. His stomach rumbled; he hadn't eaten all day. The neighbor handed him a plate covered with a napkin. Matt laughed. So that's where the aroma was coming from. And isn't home comfort measured in homemade pastries? Clara declined the buckwheat, but they ate her pastries together. She said she'd seen the light in his window and guessed he was back; she'd heard he had a serious fracture and knew he wouldn't be able to manage in the country alone. Matt felt ashamed. Before retiring, he'd talked to her often; they were friends, you could say. But since he'd become a ranger, he hadn't even called her. Clara didn't hold a grudge; she'd come to him the old-fashioned way, with pastries. Matt felt more at peace. It seemed he wouldn't be entirely alone. He was still giving chess lessons to Ryan over Skype. And he could chat about life with his "young old lady."
***
Time would fly until his leg healed. City life began to flow. Matt tried to stay positive. He had a goal—for Ryan to get into college and become a good chess player. And not to kill the tomato plant. And, of course, he hadn't forgotten the main thing—returning to the country. He looked out the window, drinking tea and thinking about it all. A car pulled up to the entrance and parked right in front of his window. Matt looked out. Not the first time, clearly. The grass was long gone, replaced by packed earth. The driver went into the building. Matt hurried out to say something. But by the time he limped to the door, all he saw were the heels of the man's boots.
He listened—the door right above his apartment opened. Looks like someone lived there. That apartment had always been a rental; people changed constantly. The neighborhood wasn't great, so tenants didn't stay long. He'd have to find out who lived there. Soon he learned the apartment had been bought. Now a local businessman and his wife lived there. He had a grocery store nearby and found a place close to his business. He always parked on the grass, and no one said a word. The guy was big, head shaved; rumors were he'd done time, though for what, no one knew, but that was enough to scare the neighbors. Clara said one neighbor, a young guy, had tried to complain about the car and was later jumped in the dark and beaten. The police didn't get involved; the local officer just smiled at the shaved-headed guy. But Matt tried to defend the grass anyway.
The neighbor just hinted that he should look after his legs. The old man remembered his shop class, took some wood, and built a little fence. While the neighbor's car was gone, he'd somehow managed to set it up to block the spot, but the guy knocked it down that same evening. Matt didn't give up; he strung a rope from tree to tree almost every day. But the rope didn't stop the neighbor, and his conscience didn't bother him. On the contrary, he grew spiteful toward the old man. At night, they'd stomp loudly on the floor on purpose. Then someone started leaving trash at his door. Matt was already regretting getting involved. It was hard enough to walk, let alone haul someone else's trash. Clara supported him. She cleaned up after the bullies herself.
***
One day he went to the hardware store; a faucet was leaking and needed to be replaced. The nearby shops were expensive, so he went where it was cheaper. He was standing at the register when someone called his name. Matt turned and immediately recognized his student, Danny. The boy had become an impressive man; he saw his teacher and was delighted. He said everything was going well, his factory was running, he had orders. If it weren't for Matt, who believed in him and didn't leave him to his fate in school, he wouldn't have achieved anything. The former teacher just waved it off; Danny had embarrassed him with those words many times before. The man was in a hurry, no time for a long talk, but as he was leaving, he asked for the address, saying he'd definitely stop by when he had time.
Matt headed home in high spirits. When you see your students grow into such good people, you realize you haven't lived in vain. But as he entered the building, his joy vanished. Angry neighbors were standing by his apartment, and the usual bag of trash was under his door. People started shouting at the old man, overlapping each other, blaming him for the cockroaches in the building because of his "trash pile," saying he'd turned the hallway into a pigsty. The businessman's wife was there too, showering the elderly neighbor with accusations. But Matt stood his ground, and she just huffed and left. It was already the second month of winter, and the former ranger's leg wasn't getting better; in fact, it was getting worse.
He began to fear he wouldn't be well by spring. Clara just reassured him, asking him to go to the hospital; maybe they'd prescribe a massage or something. She convinced him, and he went. They didn't have much good news; he needed a plate put in. For a former teacher on a small pension, such an operation was out of reach. But there was no other way. They prescribed physical therapy, but that was just support; it wouldn't solve the problem. Matt took the referral but didn't plan on going. Going to the hospital every day when it's hard to walk—were they joking? He returned home feeling low.
Near the hospital, he saw a dog. It was cold, and the dog was thin, short-haired, and shivering by the steps. He felt sorry for the animal and called it over. The dog wasn't afraid of people; it was clear someone had dumped an adult mutt. That's how it goes—people take a cute puppy, and when it grows up, it becomes a burden. He brought the dog home. But it seemed his previous owners had kept him outside. He wasn't used to these conditions and whimpered piteously. The neighbors turned against the old man again. They started complaining that the dog's howling was bothering them. Of course, Rex whimpered, but he'd get used to it and calm down. But people were impatient; they just wanted him to shut up. The shaved-headed neighbor even threatened to kill the dog. Clara was worried for Matt and started trying to convince him to take the dog away to avoid trouble. But the man was adamant. How would he be any better than the hateful neighbors then?
The poor dog had already survived betrayal, and his new owner wouldn't let him suffer again; he wouldn't betray Rex. After a while, Rex got used to it and stopped whimpering. But the neighbors started complaining about the smell. They said the whole building stank of dog now. They continued to bully the old man, and even started picking on Clara for helping him. People are so bitter. They don't touch someone stronger, but they vent their anger on the elderly. They forgive the businessman and his wife for everything—the cigarette butts around the entrance and the grass occupied by the car—but they snap at Matt and Clara. But the woman quickly put the neighbors in their place. She was tough, had lived here all her life, had watched many of them grow up, and had survived both local thugs and racketeers in her time. They seemed to leave her alone, but they continued to harass Matt about the dog. One day he was walking Rex in the yard. The businessman arrived. The dog couldn't stand him. He was fine with others, but as soon as he felt this guy nearby, he'd start barking. This time was no different. The neighbor, taking advantage of the fact that the old man couldn't walk fast because of his leg, grabbed the dog by the collar and tried to drag him away. Luckily, a man was passing by and helped get the dog back. Since then, Matt tried not to cross paths with the angry neighbor.
***
He'd already learned when the man came home. He watched his car through the window every day, after all. Spring was close, and the former ranger was feeling completely dejected in his city apartment. It was a good thing Clara didn't abandon him, visiting and keeping him entertained. Another joy was that his chess student was actually starting to beat his mentor. He'd even signed up for city tournaments. He was preparing seriously for college and was nervous. Matt was sure the boy would get in; he caught on to everything quickly and had finished school well. And most importantly, he had the drive. When spring arrived, the former ranger tried not to think about the village. After getting his next pension check, he decided to go for groceries on Saturday. He left Rex at home to avoid running into the neighbor. In the store, he looked for the cheapest options, studying the price tags for a long time. He'd prepped a list of what he needed to buy and an approximate price for each item. But the prices weren't encouraging; everything cost more than he'd calculated. So he walked around, looking at where he could save. He met his former student again. This time Danny wasn't in a hurry. He walked his teacher to the register, and while the old man was digging in his wallet, the young man quickly paid for all the groceries, grabbed the bag, took Matt by the arm, and led him to his car. He offered to give him a ride; he could see it was hard for him to walk, and with the groceries, he'd never make it. He immediately brushed off any objections. He put the groceries in the trunk. Two other guys were in the car. The one in the front immediately got out, gave his seat to Matt, and sat in the back. On the way, Danny asked about life in retirement. Matt shared his problems—that he'd have to forget about the village, that he'd gotten a dog, that the neighbors were bullying him now, that a shaved-headed businessman had everyone scared, and the building's residents were taking it out on an old man. When they pulled up to the entrance, all the men got out of the car. Neighbors were sitting on the bench, mouths agape at the sight of the expensive car the old man had been brought in. Danny asked a friend to help Matt to his apartment. He and the other guy went up to the neighbors and threatened them: if they didn't want trouble, they should leave the old man alone. The businessman's car was on the grass as usual. Danny asked who the owner was. The neighbors scrambled to tell him where the guy lived.
The guys went to visit him. They didn't come back for a long time. Then the shaved-headed guy ran out, got in his car, and drove away. After that, the neighbors stopped picking on the old man. The neighbor never parked on the grass again. Matt and Clara started building a flower bed in front of the windows. And Danny started stopping by the former teacher's place for tea. He'd bring groceries on the way. He didn't take any money from the old man. One day he offered to take him to the hospital; he could see the man was suffering. Matt agreed, thinking maybe they'd say something encouraging, since after he got the dog, he'd started going to his treatments—he'd walk Rex and get some exercise himself. At the clinic, the receptionists already knew him. He'd sit Rex in front of the window, and the nurses would keep an eye on the dog while the owner treated his leg. But even at the private clinic, the diagnosis was grim—he needed an implant.
The man thanked his former student for worrying about him. "I'm used to it now," he said, "I'll just keep limping." But Danny insisted on the surgery, arranged everything at the clinic, and although it was awkward to accept such help, the young man said they were doing it and that was that. The former student paid for the surgery and helped with the rehab. Soon Matt was steady on his feet, no longer suffering when he walked. He didn't know how to thank Danny. But the young man reassured him, saying he'd grown up with only his mother, and the shop teacher had replaced his late father. Danny had always tried to look up to Matt. He was an example of a real man to him, and had taught him so much that was useful in life. Now he was ready to take care of him like family. Matt cried all evening after that conversation. Everything seemed to be working out for the old teacher, but he was still drawn back to the village.
Danny knew this and gave him a surprise—he'd fixed up his country house. Matt couldn't find the words of gratitude when he saw that the house now had all the utilities. How much money must have gone into it? But Danny laughed, saying he'd found sponsors. So you could say he'd helped a good man and hadn't gone broke himself. Whether that was true or not, Matt didn't investigate. Why look into how kindness is done? He only asked to be taken to the city; he still had things to do there. When he arrived, he went straight to his neighbor's place, buying some croissants on the way. Danny said pastries were out of style. And Matt decided to visit Clara in a modern way. Actually, he'd returned to congratulate Ryan on getting into college. He'd asked Danny what a young student could use as a gift. He'd suggested a portable power bank for his phone—it'd be useful if he was out late and his phone died.
He and Clara discussed the future. As Matt was leaving, he turned back and said, "Actually, why did I come? Maybe you'll go to the village with me?" Clara laughed. She winked at her neighbor. They moved in together. Rex seemed to be the happiest of the trio. He traded a tiny studio for an entire village and a forest to boot. And the former ranger soon saw his old friend in the woods; the wolf recognized the man and let Rex approach. It seemed the dog had a friend now. But the tomato didn't survive in the studio apartment after all.
Now Clara took care of the vegetables, and Matt just followed her instructions.
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