Page 82 of Storm over the Caribbean
“We’re inside a cave. There’s a ceiling above us, not a sky.”
“Makes it even more pretty!” His hand swaying, he pointed at the rock-solid ceiling. “And there’s a pink cloud! And a green one! And a pin-striped one.”
“You’re still high as a kite, aren’t you?”
“Most certainly not, Mrs Lamb Roast! I am perfidiously crane! I mean…perfectly lame! Incorrectly sane!”
“I knew that already.”
Apparently, I had underestimated the effects of a certain fruit. I had to act, and act fast. If I didn’t get some more water and food into him fast, things might change for the worse.
“You.” Stabbing a finger at Fence, I pointed towards Mr Rikkard Ambrose. “Keep an eye on him. If he tries to move, you have my express permission to use him as a chew toy!”
“Woof!”
Was it just me, or did he soundveryhappy about that?
Smiling ever so slightly, I turned around, and made my way out into the jungle. Time to hunt.
The Breadwinner of the Family
“Bloody men! Always staying at home, uselessly idling around, while us hard-working women must go out and work ourselves to exhaustion to put bread on the table! And they have the temerity to have their own opinions? They should just keep their mouths shut and focus on their cooking, their needlework, and their husbandly duties in the bedroom!”
Taking a deep breath, I sagged against a tree. Wow, that was…cathartic. No wonder men were such chauvinistic arseholes!
I had been trekking through the forest for over three hours by now—which I knew because, of all things, miraculously, my pocket watch had somehow survived the shipwrecking. Three hours. And I hadn’t found a single morsel of food. Oh, I had found plenty of stuff that couldpotentiallybe food—but would I risk eating them? Nah-ah. Not in a million years. The bright, cheerful patterns on those fruits reminded me a little bit too much of some delightfully poisonous snakes I had encountered during my travels with Mr Ambrose.
Not that I had any idea whether that meant that they were actually dangerous. But, well…taking previous experiences into account, I wasn’t willing to take the risk.
So, if not fruit, what did that leave?
Animals. Animals of all shapes and sizes. Animals from a thousand different species. And, lastly but most definitely not least important: animals that would have to behunted.
Oh joy.
Ever so gently, I pushed aside the branch in front of me. There, in the clearing right ahead, stood a small, wild piglet. A small, juicy, damnably delicious-looking piglet. If I hadn’tknown the feeling came from gathering saliva, I would have thought I suddenly had a waterfall inside my mouth. Slowly, cautiously, I stepped out into the open.
“Good piggy, nice piggy,” I whispered, slowly stalking closer. “Be a good little pork roast and stay where you are, will you?”
The piglet continued munching grass peacefully. It showed no reaction. All I heard was a soft grunt from behind me. Excellent. Now I could—
I froze.
Wait…frombehindme?
Slowly, I turned my head.
“Oh, um…hello.”
The massive mama pig behind me gave me a death stare that somehow, incredibly, could compete with the likes of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Maybe it was the set of giant, deadly tusks?
She opened her maw and roared. Genuinely friggingroared.
Yep, it’s the tusks. Definitely the tusks.
“Um…I was just looking. No offence, right?” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I’m sure we can resolve this peacefully, mother to mother?”
The wild boar gave another roar.17
