"I'm sorry Locke," Boone repeated, "I really didn't mean to lose it! I don't know how it disappeared! I stuck it in the ground, and –"
"Left it unattended." Locke finished his statement. He bent down to another bush, carefully examining the leaves. He glanced at Boone. "You just gave the advantage back to him." He looked up. Boone looked up, too.
"It's going to rain soon." Boone estimated, "In about five minutes."
Locke glanced at him. "Three." he corrected the boy. "But good job."
A rustling sound came from a nearby bush, and Locke stiffened, his hand flying instantly to his Bowie knife. Boone stood back a few steps, frightened. Then the rustling stopped.
"What is it?" Boone whispered to Locke as the hunter's dark eyes lingered on the spot.
Locke pulled the knife from his belt and tossed it to Boone. "Find out yourself," he said, and returned to checking the bushes for odd markings. Boone stared at the knife, and then at Locke, and then back at the knife.
"You want me to –?"
"That's the general idea."
"But what if I –?"
"Get attacked? I think you'll be okay."
"How do you always –?"
"Finish all your sentences for you?" Locke looked up at the boy. "I know you like the back of my hand." he remarked. "We're 'special friends'. Remember?"
Boone laughed. "Special friends. Right." He stashed the knife into his belt, took one last look at Locke, and started into the woods.