Biting The Bullet

Chapter 9

George was concerned. It wasn't like her to be so quiet... A few hours ago she was still her usual bossy self. Oh well, she was always hard to grasp.

He reached for his tenth — or eleventh? — mushroom. Same as before, he moved it around with his tongue to get the taste out. It wasn't exactly bland, but gravy would be nice. Cremini mushrooms mixed with garlicky beef-broth gravy, sprinkled with rosemary and sage... His mouth watered at the thought and he hurriedly cooked another.

Kassidy still had the same emotionless stare and robotic chewing. He shook his head. No doubt she would be back to her normal self soon.

He burped. "Excuse me."

No response.

"These are fine mushrooms, aren't they?"

Still no response.

"Freshly picked by none other than..." he added, stealing quick looks at her.

She blinked and slowly turned her head. "Yeah, thanks, they taste great."

There was no enthusiasm in her voice.

Not knowing what else he could do, he finished (marginally more than) his portion in silence and moved away. 

The sky was magically starry. The clusters were reachable on tip-toes. This was the Universe's beckoning, an opening-up of the wonders it held. His eyes moved from left to right and right to left, lapping up all the nighttime beauty.

When his neck was craned too much, he shifted his vision towards the soil. There was hardly anything for him to look at, though, since everything was so dark. This made the fire ever more prominent, as well as the figure beside it whose outline was illuminated, like an unmoving silhouette.

Increasing concern.

At long last, her head moved the slightest bit — this could be seen from the change in outline. He was glad the period of unsettling silence was over.

***

The nostalgia was so much that she... zoned out. How much time had she spent, staring into nothing? It must have been quite a long time since the sky had darkened significantly. There were even stars now. 

Were those lucky stars? Did they mean anything — that her family would be whole again?

Stop being superstitious. 

She heaved a sigh and pushed aside her thoughts. A clear mind was better for sleeping. The blood flow started returning to her feet when she stood up.

Since her appetite hadn't been in the best place, it was no big surprise to find a half-eaten mushroom between her fingers. Putting it down, she prepared to extinguish the campfire to fight shy of unfortunate accidents — oh wait. Water.

What a humble pie indeed. After all, it was her who had been against the idea of fetching water. 

Or, she could go there and come back without anyone noticing. That was probably the best solution. The coast was clear; George wasn't looking. She ran into the jet blackness.

It grew increasingly difficult for her to see the path; if it weren't for the moonlight, she'd barely see anything at all. She squinted hard trying to make out the surroundings. If only she had nighttime vision. If only humans were as sensitive as cats. At one point she nearly tripped over a twig. 

In order not to bash into trees, she stretched a hand in front. It brushed against a low, thin branch, making her gasp softly. Afterwards she became tentative as approaching a butterfly. Braving the unknown, she made what appeared to be considerable progress. This was a milestone for her, since she had no prior experience in the wild, to cover such distance in a short amount of time. The campsite was a long, long way behind.