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“Yeah, why?”
Perfect. He left the tunnel with his gun in tow and disappeared into the valley of gray.
There had to be something out there he could catch for food. For her. She needed more than just beans and oats.
He slushed through the mud as he gauged his surroundings. The ditch they were camped in was settled just outside the village. There was a collection of leafless, stick-like trees to his left, and to his right was a series of broken buildings. Straight ahead was a mixture of sad-looking bushes, shattered stumps, and abandoned cars.Behind him was just more of the same.To the left it was.
Forget about catching a deer or rabbit, he’d be lucky to find a rat. The straw-like grass that led into the dead forest was encouraging. There had to be some small creatures that inhabited this area. Maybe a bird that made a home in the bare branches of the trees. Possibly a hungry squirrel looking for its next meal as it scurried across the bark of the trees.
The mud-covered ground soon turned into a swamp land.Puddles deepened, and the grass seemed to grow in height as the insect population sought out his blood.He waved his hand in front of his face to scatter the gnats and quickened his steps.
A few more paces brought him to a muddy embankment, and he eased himself over it and faced the lifeless trees. No birds flew overhead; no calls of the wildlife he’d hoped lived in here. Just silence.
As he moved through the woods, he kept his eyes and ears focused, waiting for any sign that something—anything—lived here. His boots sank into the muck as he stood still, listening to any sounds of life.
Behind him, a splash sounded. He turned his head to the noise and heard a deep croak. He swung around back toward the embankment. Another croak, more musical than the first, met his ears. A frog?
He looked to the sky, to the barren treetops, and to the unfruitful landscape.Frog it was.But would Eva eat it?Knowing her, she’d probably enjoyed worse things.
He walked back to the edge of the swamp and followed the sounds to his next meal.The frog’s tone became louder and elongated. He tracked it with light footsteps so as not to scare it away. It wasn’t too long before the grass parted, revealing the water that encircled it and a nice, fat frog.
The green amphibian rested on a rock, its vocal sac expanding as it sounded off another call. Krieger reached for the knife in his boot with slow movements.He’d been pleased to find he could aim and shoot a gun, but could he throw a knife?There was only one way to find out. He risked losing the frog if he missed, but if he could hit a black bean can with a tiny bullet, surely, he could hit prey with a large blade.
He drew his hand back and kept his eyes steady on their would-be food.The blade left his hand and breezed through the grass before coming to a stop in the frog’s neck.A quick death.The corners of his lips twitched into a smile at his success.
How was he doing this? Had he been some kind of expert hunter, assassin, or soldier? He shook his head and retrieved his kill. After removing his knife, he detached the head, skinned it, and gutted it. He repeated the process, killing one more frog, before returning the knife to his boot.
He was beyond lucky to have these skills. At least he could provide for and protect Eva like he’d wanted.
As he made his way back to the tunnel, he felt more water droplets touch his skin, which reminded him... their H2O was running low. There didn’t seem to be any streams or freshwater ponds around. The only water he’d come across was in the swamp, and no way was he drinking that muck. But the rain was another story. He could set out their wooden bowls to catch the fresh water and refill their canteens. First thing after they ate, the containers were going out.
When he entered the tunnel, he found a pacing Eva. “Where have you been?”
He raised the frogs in the air. “Catching food.”
“I told you not to go.”
“And I explained to you that I was capable of providing for us,” he said as he reached for his canteen.
He poured water over the frogs’ bodies, cleaning them before skewering the bodies and placing them both over the fire.
Eva plopped down across from him with a furrowed brow and a pout. She scowled at him as he sat back to regard her.
“I hope you like frog,” he said, ignoring her attitude.
She nodded. “It’s quite delicious, tastes like chicken. But that still doesn’t make up for your total disregard of my orders.”
Turning the spit, he said, “You were being unreasonable.”
“No, I was being realistic. You could have been hurt or killed.”
“But I wasn’t.”
She crossed her arms. “You’re not making it easy to trust you, you know.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Me? You’re the one that makes trust between us hard.”
She looked away. “Doubtful.”
