Page 16 of A Rugged Beauty
Ten days lost in the wilderness was far too many. If no one was looking for them, he was putting both of them in danger by insisting they stay put.
He couldn't look at her as she tossed the hook back into the water, as he knelt over the two fish with his pocketknife, thankful that soon the hunger pangs in his belly would be satisfied.
What was the right decision? He wished he knew.
The woman sat back from the campfire, warm and full. She licked the grease of the fish from her fingers. H had threaded them onto a slender stick and cooked them over the fire.
She should've been embarrassed at how she'd devoured it before it had even cooled—like she was a wild animal. Or half-starved, which was more accurate.
That had been hours ago. Even though they’d had fish for breakfast too, she'd never been more happy to eat the same food for two meals in a row.
H sat across the fire, staring into the flames as if deep in thought. She had a passing feeling that this wasn't the first time she'd seen him pensive.
After breakfast, he'd left their camp to go scouting while she’d stayed behind. His departure had unsettled her. The quietness had seemed threatening without him near, so she'd busied herself with hunting for more sticks and branches to feed the fire.
He’d raised one eyebrow when he'd returned to camp, but before a defensive word could escape her lips, he'd smiled. Asked whether she'd hummed the entire time she'd gathered wood.
She hadn't known how to answer that. She’d noticed the songs from inside her, though most of the words still eluded her. The humming had begun unconsciously.
Now the warmth of the fire and the sun overhead made her feel almost drowsy. She roused herself when she felt her head bob with sleep. Sat up straighter. Caught the grin twitching his lips.
But when he spoke, he was serious. "You should nap," he said. "It's difficult to sleep through the night on the hard ground. And we may need to leave our camp behind in the morning."
Leave camp?
"Why?" She didn't mean for the word to emerge breathless and weak.
He glanced to the side, briefly giving her his profile. A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I've been thinking on it all morning. We'veonly got this crude shelter. No blankets. No tools. It's dangerous for us to stay here."
How could that be? She'd learned the crude path to the river. Recognized the shape of the trees as she'd searched the woods for downed trees and branches for their fire. She'd begun to feel safe as the surrounding area had become more familiar.
He seemed to read the direction of her thoughts. His eyes made a circuit of their surroundings, too.
“There’s a rugged beauty to it, isn’t there?” he asked gently. “A wildness that calls to me.” He paused. “But what if it storms? Your shelter isn't waterproof."
And he hadn't slept under any shelter at all, last night.
"What if a wild animal approaches?"
She resisted the urge to remind him of the gun at his hip. He'd told her yesterday that he had only the bullets inside it. There were no more once the ammunition ran out.
"What if someone comes looking for us?" she asked. Her eyes roved the small shelter, the fire, the broken branches just beyond H.
“There’s been no sign of anyone today. It would help if we could remember how many days since we’ve been out here.”
"You remembered something this morning." Her argument only made him shift his legs, extending one long leg parallel to the fire.
"Not anything helpful to us."
Was it her imagination, or did he seem cagey as he answered, his gaze flitting to the side.
"Our memories may come back." She'd held onto that thought since she'd woken this morning.
"What if they don't?" he asked. "What if the fish aren't biting tomorrow?"
She could still feel the echoes of the roaring hunger, a hunger so deep she’d felt it in her bones. She didn't want to starve out here.
"And we've no medicine," he said. "The thing that frightens me most is imagining us eating something and getting bad sick again—or getting cut and having an infection."
