Tim puffed gently on the tuft of dry grass, coaxing the weak flame into burning a little more enthusiastically. He offered it a few dead leaves, waiting patiently for it to become a viable fire before moving on to twigs. It was a while before he managed to get a decent flame going, but, finally, he was able to move an old iron grill that he'd found abandoned at the edge of the clearing into position on top of a couple of rocks and set a pot of water on it.
He willed it to boil quickly.
The powdered soup he'd spooned into the two mugs wouldn't be especially filling, but at least it would be relatively fast.
Shelter had been the first priority, and gathering enough firewood to keep them warm tonight had to be their next task.
But, with a bit of luck, they'd have time to try their hands at fishing before it got dark.
Because he had a feeling that the small tent would be unpleasant enough tonight, without them having to break into a can of beans for dinner.
X X X
Tony sat cross-legged beside the small creek, barely awake after more physical labour than he'd done in a long time, trying to decide if he was hoping to catch a fish, or hoping not to catch a fish.
He was hungry enough that he was willing to eat one, even though it was far from his favourite food, and he doubted that the wilds of Virginia would yield a lemon butter sauce for their catch.
But he strongly suspected that cleaning and gutting the thing would take care of his appetite long before the taste became an issue.