𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 | 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒍

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The silence between Peter and I had became comfortable, my head resting softly on his right shoulder, when Peter jumps. I instantly whip my head off his shoulder at the movement and his swearing under his breath.

"What's wrong?" I ask, and Peter's swearing soon turns to a grin.

"I think we caught somethin'!" His voice can't hold back the excitement running through him as he plants the rod in my hands. I grasp on tightly out of instinct as he begins to pull in the string. A fish jumps from in the water about ten feet away from us as Peter continues to struggle in the reel, and my excitement grows as well.

"No way!" I say as Peter brings it all the way to the shore. I place the rod to my right and help Peter. With the extra pair of hands, we wrestle the large fish onto the grassy shore and Peter removes the makeshift hook from its mouth. The fish looks to be about two and a half feet long, the silver scales shining bright in the light.

I jog around to the opposite side of the fish, facing Peter as he picks up the flopping fish. He turns it around and looks at the entirety of the body as the fish slowly begins to stop moving, and once he drops it back onto the ground it's stopped moving completely. Peter leans back, using his left arm as a prop, as his smile drops off his face.

"Why the sad face?" I ask, my smile still wide.

"Not edible."

The sentence rings through the air and my smile drops as well. "Really?" I ask, my voice small.

"Yeah," Peter breathes out. "We can't eat that."

"Why not?"

"Not a lot of meat to work with in the first place, but I know this type of fish. Can't think of the name, but the meat is harmful to eat. Somethin' about inflammation or somethin', I don't really remember exactly what, but I remember that you're supposed to stay away."

Of course you are. This is just another death trap. My thoughts take over my attention, but I attempt to push them aside. I take a look at the fish, the light bending around the large silver scales.

"Alright, so we can't eat it, right? So, what if we use the scales? They reflect light pretty well, we could use them as signals or something. I'm sure there's some good bones in there too, we might be able to use them as hooks or as weapons," I think out loud, and Peter looks to me with a growing smile.

"You're a genius, Aveline," Peter starts as he advances on the fish. "You still got that knife on you?"

I nod and pull the knife out of my pocket, offering him the handle. He takes it and flips it into his hand with ease, admiring the design of it again.

"Did... Did Gamora give you this?" He asks quietly.

"Yes. At the beginning. I fell and she helped me up, and when I started to run to the supplies building she stopped me and gave me some of her things. She told me that I would've been killed if I went in, and she's probably right. I'd be surprised if everyone made it out of there alive." My voice stays quiet as I ease into talking about Gamora with Peter.

"There's really no way for us to know if everyone's alive, is there," Peter says, his eyes expressing the desperate fear he's begun to feel.

"I guess there isn't," I start, taking a small breath and averting my eyes. "Let's hope we never have to find out, though."

The silence that falls between Peter and I this time is heavier, the topic weighing our movements down as we begin to butcher the fish. Neither of us are very good at cutting, especially on top of our stressed and sudden movements. The fish ends up being brutally demolished, parts of it laying sporadically around us. A lazy piles of scales has begun to form in between us, and the bones slowly collecting around Peter's feet. Once there's only one strip of fish to be scaled and deboned, I sit quietly to Peter's right. He takes the strip and takes the scales off without grace, the blood of the fish staining his hands an uncomfortable red. The bones of the fish fall out without Peter needing to cut the fish farther and once he's done with the fish he throws it onto the ground.

"Should we try to fish some more or just call it a morning?" Peter asks as he stands, making his way to the water to wash the blood off his hands as best he can. It comes off with surprising ease, though a tint of red remains when he removes his hands from the pond, making him look as though he got sunburned.

"I think we should head back. The rest of the crew are probably awake now." I walk over and join Peter next to the water, rinsing my own hands off.

Once I put my hands into the water, my nose itches, and I pull one of my hands out to scratch it. A few drops of water drip from my nose to my mouth, and I don't think of it at first, but within seconds I realize something. The water doesn't taste salty. It's freshwater.

"Peter," I say, my eyes widening. He looks over in worry and is about to question me when I scoop my hands and take a sip of water. I look to him with a smile returning to my face before speaking again. "It's freshwater."

He widens his eyes before looking back down at the water incredulously, a smile of his own growing. "No way," he says before taking a drink himself.

The two of us sit there, making messes of ourselves as we drink the water at an incredible rate, both of us thirsty beyond belief. We stay there for another five minutes, filling ourselves up on as much water as we can. By the time we stand again, my throat has lost the dry soreness I didn't realize it had gained, and we both have smiles on our faces again. Peter takes the pack off his back and opens it up.

"Do you have hands to carry a couple things back? I don't have enough room for all of my stuff plus the fish."

"Yeah, of course," I tell him as he begins to take a few things out, including a poncho, binoculars, a flashlight, and a four-inch wide disk that slightly resembles the one Steve used last night. I put on the poncho and binoculars to free up my hands for the rest of the supplies, letting the flashlight hang on my wrist by the black strap attached to it and holding the disk in my hand.

"What is this thing?" I ask him, turning the item around in my hands.

"Not sure, actually. You can try to like, open it or something if you want. I have no clue what it does though, so be careful," Peter replies as he shoves the fish, bones, and scales into his bag.

I press around on the disk, hoping for it to open like the shield Steve used, but it won't move from the disk form it's in. After flipping it in my hands over and over again and still not finding a button that opens it, I give up. Peter stands and the bag on his back looks uncomfortably full, but he swings it on anyway.

"You ready?" Peter asks, and I nod.

"Let's go home."