Lying on the other side of the fire with his head against the pillowing flank of Hunkapa Aub, Simna watched the meal cook. Hungry as he was, the tantalizing aroma that rose from the sizzling fish verged on the sensuous.
“Hoy, long bruther, we’ve traversed desert and veldt, mountain and marsh on foot before. By Gumitharap’s calluses, we’ll cross whatever lies before us as well.”
Ehomba smiled fondly over the flames at his sometimes trying but ever willing friend. “Optimism becomes you, Simna.”
The swordsman looked up and grinned. “Not being dead does wonders for a man’s spirits.” Lifting his head and glancing to one side, he indicated a slowly heaving dark mass lying off by itself a little ways away from the fire. Having ingested an unholy vast quantity of eel, the black litah was locked in a sleep that mimicked the deceased.
“Kitty there won’t own up to it, but he saved my life. I don’t buy all that pompous indifference about his just being after a meal. He could catch fish anytime. He knew what he was doing.”
“I suspect that you are right, my friend.” Rising, the herdsman wiped down the front of his kilt. “I was thinking how nice it would be to have something else to eat with the fish. I think we passed a fruit tree a little ways back, and I know I saw some mushrooms.” Picking up his spear, he started away from the fire and into the forest.
“Don’t go too far, bruther,” Simna exclaimed warningly. “We don’t know these woods. There may not be any possessive, ambulatory collections of bones click-clacking about, but unknown nights often hide all sorts of hungry beasties.”