Black Beauty- Steve HarringtonxOC

Chapter 8

"I don't understand how you know all of this," she sighs, trudging through the fallen leaves. Amongst the oranges and browns, Steve's deep green sweater paints her in the shades of Autumn. Booklet in hand, Filly notes down every bit of the lesson. In the absence of a printing press, she can at least replace books with notes.

"What, you wanna keep on the way you are? Just be thankful I'm even taking the time." Shaking his head, Hopper continues to explain the knot he's tying. He doesn't need to explain himself to a kid. "Listen. Next, you're gonna take your working end and put it through both loops. Not one, both. You got it?"

"Yes. But won't it be unsafe to eat by the time I find it?" she wonders. Hopper shows her the trapper's knot again, liberally dispersing leaves around the area. "And anything could come and eat it."

"That's why we're using snares. If something else comes along and steals your dinner, you'll have a different one waiting. You come out here, check on them multiple times daily, you won't have that problem." The man turns back to the snare, propped up by a y-shaped twig and a long stake they'd fashioned. "You cover your tracks after, use dirt or leaves to make sure your scent doesn't stick around."

Hopper struggles up off his knees, putting some weight on the tree's rough bark to assist himself. There are dark spots on his pants, soiled by the dirt and rotting leaves below. Dusting them with his hands, he looks at the young girl that follows him. Her straight, inky locks had lengthened, softening with the additions to her food stores.

He'd supplemented the carnivorous diet with boxes of protein bars and oatmeal. They're cheap, they're nutritious, and they don't require any cooking, which is hard to come by on a policeman's salary, even for the chief. He was sure those kids that hung around her were only bringing her junk food. She needed something hearty. Filling.

She picked up easily on most menial tasks, sharp enough to remember most everything he told her. Cooking was an issue, however, and a big one. She'd been letting her small grill collect dust, preferring the path of least resistance from spear to stomach. He'd once witnessed the thin teen peel the hide right off a beaver with her teeth. She'd been so proud of her first hit with the throwing spear that she'd wanted to eat it right there. The only thing stopping her was Hopper's hand pushing it down.

Hopper was not squeamish by any means, but he couldn't watch her eat that nor could he watch her get sick from it. All kinds of things can hide in its flesh, be they illness, insect, parasite or plague.

It was in the Summer. The animal hadn't yet put on the extra weight for the colder months, making it tough to get an angle on. Rather than throwing knives, he convinced her to try throwing something else. A javelin from a branch has so many more benefits, as he'd explained. They can be made on the fly. The puncture they create is much more likely to bring an animal of substantial size down for good. They're flexible and can be multipurpose tools.

She hadn't made much of an argument after that.

Now he was sure she'd have a steady supply through the winter, enough to keep her alive while he was taking care of her sister.

He never thought he'd be living a double life nor did he think he'd take care of two sisters residing in two worlds. One is isolated by choice, the other by coercion.

He can't tell her about El. On the off chance that she decides not to go with him, then he's only put El at higher risk by speaking of her whereabouts.

"You know..." He begins, the same as always. He tries phrasing it like a suggestion, hoping it would make her more amenable to the idea, but she knew it would never work. "You wouldn't have to worry about all that if you took me up on my offer. It's still on the table."