Free Flux by Kim Fielding Page B

nuts. I don’t think you should—”
    Ennek huffed impatiently. “I’ll be fine. But I doubt I’ll need magic to get one of these; a sharpened stick ought to do.”
    Miner nodded at him, relieved, and went into the woods a bit to gather deadwood. Ennek came too, and he wrenched a long, slender branch from a tree and then borrowed Miner’s knife to make a point on one end. As Miner set the firewood in place—truthfully, it was a bit difficult with his bad wrist, but he didn’t admit it—Ennek stood over the stone pool with his makeshift spear, talking to himself as he tried to trap his prey. Miner got the flames going and put a little water into their pot. He sliced the apples and put them in the pot along with the nuts, then dropped a large stone into the center of his fire and set the pot on top of it. He hoped that after the fruit had simmered and softened for a while the results would be edible.
    Ennek’s hunting was unsuccessful and darkness was settling about them. Miner was about to suggest that he give it up when Ennek shouted with triumph and raised his spear, revealing a large fish wriggling desperately at the end of it. He set the fish onto a rock and pulled out the spear, then used a stone to deliver a single deathblow. He brought the catch over to the grassy area where Miner waited, and efficiently cleaned and gutted it. Impaling it again, he held it over the flames.
    “This ought to be plenty for the two of us,” he said, turning the fish slowly.
    “You’re good at that. Catching fish, I mean.”
    “It’s probably not the most efficient way to do it, but it worked.”
    “Did you fish often in Praesidium?”
    “Not often. Not much point of it at the Keep. But sometimes I’d go across the bay and camp for a few days. Just…just to get away from things, I expect. It was peaceful there. And when I went I’d fish or, very rarely, hunt. How about you?”
    “All my fish came from the market.” He smiled. “But I gathered some mussels when we landed here. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”
    “Of course it does. Although mussels tend not to run away very fast.”
    Ennek joked so rarely that it always took Miner by surprise. This time, he snorted out a laugh and Ennek chuckled back.
    They were too hungry to wait long for the fish to cook. In any case it ended up half raw and half charred, and they burnt their fingers and made an enormous mess as they ate it without utensils, but it tasted wonderful. By the time they’d finished picking at the bones, the apples had softened; their fingers were burnt even worse as they scooped up the resulting mush, but the flavor wasn’t bad and they filled themselves to bursting.
    “Whatever that wizard throws at us tomorrow, at least we won’t be starving,” Ennek said. Reminded of what was to come, Miner looked glumly away. But Ennek bonked his shoulder lightly against Miner’s. “You know what? We’ll get through it.”
    Miner sighed. Then he began to lick his fingers clean, one by one, until he happened to glance at Ennek and saw that the man was watching him, his mouth slightly ajar and his dark eyes glassy. Miner stared back. The flames flickered and somewhere nearby an owl hooted, startling them both, reminding them that they were being observed. Ennek abruptly rose to his feet. He walked to the edge of the pool and knelt to wash his hands and face. A moment later, Miner did the same.
    They set out their blankets and, without removing anything except their shoes and Ennek’s scarf, they lay down together, bodies pressed close for comfort and protection. “We’ll get through this,” Miner whispered, more to himself than Ennek, but Ennek mumbled his agreement. Perhaps if they said it often enough, it would be true.

    ***

    They did not get an especially early start. The Bhujanga hopped from tree to tree and scolded them until Ennek sleepily threw a stone at it. They knew that the wizard was likely close by, and neither of them saw the point