He was... scowling. Meadow's ears wilted against her head, sheepish. Shy. Do ya not speak? Well, he'd gotten it right, at least. She nodded, confirming his suspicions. She doesn't speak. She's never spoken, at least while she's awake. It's only in interacting with her grandmother, with the Meadow before her, that she's been able to muster up words. Those were all in dreams, with someone who seemed to... well, who seemed to know her better than even she knew herself.
He moved on his belly instead of rising to his feet. It was puzzling to Meadow, was he feeling weak? Or was it more dizziness, more his head? She studied him carefully, opalescent eyes settling on the boy. Trying to read him, trying to process exactly what he might be doing. It was interesting, but she was also... maybe a bit confused. Meadow is allowed to be confused, she decides. He was taking the little bundle, nibbling on it, before starting to chew. Meadow offered a soft nod, he'd gotten it right. Maybe the taste was putting him off, that would be fair.
If he was weak, then he'd also be dehydrated. Meadow took a few steps backwards before turning to disappear for a few more moments. There were buckets out within the grove to collect rainwater, usually used to water the plants. There was enough within this one that it was too heavy for Meadow to lift. Instead she grabbed one of the makeshift scoops from within it (a bowl from the kitchen, from the looks of it), and filled it. This was good enough. The girl returned to the strange rainbow boy once more, padding to him and setting the water down within reach too. Well, he didn't look dead at least. That had to count for something.
