Page 72 of Severed Heart
“Me too, General Brash.” He winks, the breeze lifting his dark hair as he glances over at me. It’s then I notice his rich brown eyes are crowded by thick, naturally curled lashes—it is probably why I find them so beautiful.
As the sun sinks a little deeper and the fire begins to glow a little brighter, I perk at the sound that starts to surround us.
“I know that calculating look,” he says, “what’s going on in that beautiful brain?”
“Does your watch have a timer?”
“Yeah”—he angles his head—“why?”
“I want you to time fifteen seconds when I say and count the cricket chirps when you start it.”
“Okay.” He clicks his watch a few times and nods when the allotted time passes. “Done.”
“How many chirps?” I ask.
“Twenty-three,” he replies.
“If the crickets chirp twenty-three times in fifteen seconds, you add forty to that, and it gives the current temperature in American degrees. Or very close to.”
“Huh,” he says, glancing down at his watch and pressing a button to light it to see the screen, which I assume gives him both time and temperature. “Shit, you’re right, it’s close, sixty-two degrees. That’s a pretty cool trick.”
“If you tune into the crickets and remain aware, theabsenceof chirp can alert you to the presence of predators and help you gauge the direction the danger is coming from.”
“Unreal,” he whispers, staring at me over the low-lit fire.
“What?” I smile.
“Leave it to you to find a teaching moment out of nothing.”
“You knew about crickets’ chirps to tell the temperature,” I confront in a dry tone.
His jaw drops slightly. “How did you know that?”
“I can detect lies, Tyler. I’mvery goodat it.”
“Then you must teach me this, General Yoda. And I didn’t lie. I just didn’t want to impress you too much,” he jokes.
“Ha, you caughtno fish, and if you want to impress me, disappear into the wild with nothing but a knife for two weeks.”
He gapes at me. “Seriously?”
“It’s a true test of man’s abilities, a test you are not yet ready for,” I declare as I stand, scouring the cliffside adjacent to us. “Ah, Tyler, come.”
Without hesitation, he follows me as I walk over to the clay ridge at the side of the mountaintop and stop when I see what I’m looking for.
“You know, I grew up here,” he says, “but I have a feeling you’re about to embarrass the shit out of me.”
“You’re young,” I state, bending to the protruding foliage, urging him closer. “So don’t be so hard on yourself. God may provide, but we still need education from mentors of what to look for. See?” I point to a branch protruding from the cliff rock. “Count the leaves. See the pattern?”
He nods, hovering just behind me. “Yeah.”
I gently pull one of the roots from the rock, making sure to keep it intact. “Smell,” I encourage, lifting the root to him, “take a small bite.”
He does, and the genuine surprise in his face is my reward. “Licorice ... no wait, root beer?”
“Sassafras,” I tell him, dropping the root and wiping my hands, “which does make root beer, but you can make tea with it. It has nutritious value, vitamins, antoxidants, and is used in many medicines.”
He shakes his head in astonishment. “And once again, my general summons a lesson out of nothing.”
