Still waiting on a review...guess people are stingy with their opinions. I start school tomorrow so I may post less frequently.
Abby
When she arrived back at camp, the man was fiddling with the small pile of firewood she'd gathered earlier that day. The skinned and gutted squirrels were piled on the rocks around her fire pit, the entrails in Mickey's food bowl.
Satisfied with the teepee of small sticks, he stood to hang the skins on the clothesline. He was avoiding eye contact.
"D'ya have a lighter?" he said to the squirrel skins and the woods beyond the clearing.
"Yeah, and lighter fluid. I'm awful at making fires."
He turned and met her eyes for a second, then looked over at Mickey who was loudly slurping up squirrel guts. "Guess he accepts my peace offering. Save your lighter fluid. Got any paper?"
"Toilet paper. But I'm not burning that. I'll grab you the stuff and then I'm gonna change." Abby climbed in her SUV, found her fire supplies and handed them to the man. Then she grabbed clean clothes and walked behind the car, hopefully out of sight. She heard the lighter click.
After squirming into her damp underwear, she threw on her sweats and a shirt. She hung her wet clothes on the line, carefully avoiding the squirrels. By the time she rejoined her new companion he had the fire roaring. He was trying to construct a spit but couldn't find the right sticks. Abby grabbed him some extra twine and soon they were watching the squirrels cook. She didn't like the way he'd strung the little creatures up. They look like they were clinging to the stick for dear life while the flames licked their backs.
Mickey started eying the extras so she got up to fill his bowl with kibble. She returned determined to have a conversation.
"You haven't told me your name, you know."
"Daryl." It was more like a grunt than an answer.
"Of course it is."
"The hell's that s'posed to mean?" Daryl's tone was angry, but she doubted he was serious.
"Oh nothing, it's a lovely name. So…what does squirrel taste like?"
"Better than rat. Worse than rabbit. This ain't the best way to cook 'em." The carcasses looked close to done, but they looked just as unappetizing as they did raw. Still, the smell of meat was almost intoxicating.
"Did you hunt a lot, before?"
"Had to eat." Her attempts at starting a conversation were interrupted by a deep growl. It was getting dark but she could see Mickey, his whole body tense, squaring off with a Corpse.
Abby reached for her axe, but before she could raise it an arrow embedded itself in the Corpse's forehead. It crumpled. Mickey sniffed at it tentatively, then trotted over to rest his massive head in her lap.
"Damn!" Daryl said as he lifted the charred squirrels off the spit. "They're overdone. Squirrel's dry even when it's not burnt. Better get that water."
Abby struggled to lift Mickey's head as she got up to get the pot and some plates. She poured some in the water bowl and returned to the fire. Daryl was shoving two more squirrels on the long, blackened stick, but pulled them off when he saw the pot.
"Girl, why didn't you say you had a pot? You gotta try squirrel stew. It's almost good. Fancy eatin' compared to spit roasted."
She filled it half way and handed it over.
"Sorry, didn't think. I don't have anything else to put in it though."
"'S fine. What were you gonna eat?" He dropped the last three squirrels in the pot.
"Actually, I pretty much ran out of food last night. That's why I was gonna try to eat those 'shrooms."
He looked at her incredulously. "How the hell did you even survive this long?!"