Page 15 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
“Nope, just the regular cow stuff. It’s that or nothing, sorry.”
He doesn’t look particularly sorry. Smug bastard.
“Well… what about some other kind of sandwich then? Just not bacon?”
"Ham?"
"Obviously not."
"Oh, yes, sorry. Well, tuna, then?"
"Now you're deliberately being stupid."
"No, I'm not. I know plenty of people who eat fish but not meat."
"Well, I'm not one of them. I'm vegan. That means no animal products. Ever."
"Those boots you were wearing. They were leather."
I blush red. He's right. I'd tried really hard to find some decent hiking boots that used man-made materials, but the only ones the outdoor store stocked were really uncomfortable, and looked like they'd fall apart after a week, so I'd had to go with a leather pair.
"I was forced to buy them. If I'd had a choice, I would have chosen manmade fabrics, okay?"
"Okay, okay, sure," he smiles at me. "You're a vegan, and okay, whether or not I think it's a good idea or a dumb one—and I'll let you decide on that—I respect that it's your choice, alright?"
I sigh. It's about as good as I'm going to get. I nod.
"So… do you haveanythingI can eat?"
He rummages around in the fridge. "Just the BLT stuff. Here's a tomato that looks edible," he says. "And some lettuce. Oh… there's some cheese… do you eat cheese?"
I shake my head, sadly.
"One yummy tomato and lettuce sandwich coming up then. Are you sure you won't have some bacon in that?" He sees the look on my face. "No? Mayo? Or would that be making it too interesting for you?" He sees the look on my face. Oh yes… eggs in mayo, right? Okay, just the tomato and lettuce then. I tell you what, I'll smuggle in a little salt and pepper, but don't worry, I won't tell anyone." He smiles at his pathetic joke and reaches for a bread knife.
I'm just finishing off my dull but fully vegan sandwich and a steaming cup of strong, black coffee—no almond milk, sadly—when we hear the sound of heavy boots, and the outside dooropens, letting in a strong breeze and the scent of pine before it slams shut again. The man who steps inside appears to be an older version of Toby. He starts in surprise when he sees me sitting at the table, then he quickly recovers and steps further into the room.
"Hi," he says, holding out a hand to shake. "My name's Jack—Jack James—and I'm the guy in charge here, for my sins. I see you've already met my brother, Toby. Good, good. How are you? Badly hurt? And what's your name, by the way? I don't think I know what to call you yet, do I?"
Luckily, it's my left wrist that's injured, so it's not my bad hand that he shakes. Even so, I wince at the strength of his grip. Ye Gods… doesn't he realize he's gripping a girl, not an axe handle? But I manage not to yelp or wince, and I force a smile onto my face.
"Hi, Jack, my name's Luna Wildchild?—"
"L U N A, not looney, and Wildchild as in Wild and Child, but put together," Toby interjects, smiling helpfully.
"Shut up, Toby, and let the girl speak." Good. At least there's someone who'll keep him in his place. "So, how badly are you injured? Are you able to walk at all, er… Luna?"
"I think I must have badly sprained my right ankle. It's very painful when I put any weight on it."
"Yeah, bro. She can barely walk. Has to hop. I was thinking… could we get Luke to maybe make her a crutch, or a walking stick, or something? She's really struggling."
"Hmm… good idea, Toby. I'll talk to him. Meantime, you're welcome here, Luna. Has Toby told you the news?"
"What news?" I'm puzzled.
"The news about the storm?"
"No, what about it?" Storms happen all the time. What's he on about?
