The Nun and King

Chapter 13

Another update and it didn't take months?!?!?! Here is a little something for you to fill the gap and get things sorta moving 😏 enjoy and let me know what you think!

She follows me into a wooded area, slapping at mosquitoes as they attempt to bite her. When one lands on her neck she goes in for the kill but if flies away before she can get it. There's an audible slap as her palm connects to her skin and she lets out an aggravated huff. "I just don't understand why I'm the only one being bitten," she mutters to herself.

I give a chuckle and shrug. "Probably because I smell like an armpit mixed with a horses arse," I reply. Turning around, I see that there is a red mark at the base of her throat where she just struck. "I can take you back to camp if you'd like? The bugs get worse the further in we go."

She gives her head a shake. "That'll only waste time, I'm fine," she insists. "Besides, I'm interested in learning—I've always looked up at those who can rely on themselves for food."

Turning my head, I give my right shoulder a shrug. "Suit yourself," I reply and continue navigating through the brush. We continue for a few more minutes in silence until I push a palmetto frond out of my way and pause, squatting down to examine the base of a pine tree. Pointing with one finger, I gesture to Claire to have a look.

"See how the bark is smooth here?" I ask. Usually coarse, it's been rubbed down quite extensively. She gives a nod and I continue. "Boars will usually find some mud and then rub against trees to work it in and get a good scratch at the same time. They also do it to leave behind their scent. Keeps other board at bat while attracting females," I explain. Leaning forward, I pinch off a cluster of coarse black hair from a patch of dried sap and hand it to here. "See?"

She examines the hair in the flat of her palm before dropping it to the ground. "So are you going to set a snare here?" she asks me, swatting away another mosquito.

I give my head a shake. "No, I'd need more than what I brought to set a snare large enough for a hog. Besides, there's no telling when he'd make his way back here—could be a whole day. Best to move on," I reply. When I go to stand up, she follows suit but instinctively grabs my arm when I turn. Raising my brow at her, I watch as her blue eyes skirt around the woods around us. "Is something wrong?"

Pursing her lips, she releases her grip and sighs. "I suppose I'm just nervous about running across a boar. They can be deadly, yes?"

Smirking, I give her a nod. "They can, but I wouldn't be concerned about it. Most of the time they'll run away before coming at you—and even then, I'd protect you. Don't worry your pretty little head," I say causing her to blush. I then turn and continue on once again for a few more moments when I spot a small pile of droppings. Bending down, I pick up a few pearls and feel that they are relatively fresh. Wiping my hand off on my trousers, I give a nod. "This is a good spot. Whatever was here probably heard us in the distance and ran off."

Digging into my pocket, I pull out a thin cord, two hooks, and some bread. "So," I say in a low voice. "What you need to do is attach the cord to a limb—preferably something that will bend easily but will still snap back enough to catch the game." I then grab a sapling and test it before giving a silent nod. Tying one end of the cord to the sapling, I then fasten it to a wooden elbow hook before driving an identical hook into the ground. "Now, all we need is a retractable noose," I say, and show her step by step how to craft one out of the remaining section of the cord. Then, gently, I rest both ends of the hooks to each other and lay out the noose. "So, when the animal comes back and hopefully eats some bread crumbs, it will trigger the snare like so," I say, sticking my wrist through the circular rope and moving it around. Suddenly, as the hook detaches from the base, my wrist is snatched upwards three feet into the air. There's a sting as the rope burns my skin and I remove my hand from the snare. "It's pretty simply really—hardest part is getting the hooks to stay put."