Storm’s Rising || Closed
[ ☣ ]– He watched the hand dart out and bright eyes examining the trade. After she placed off it to the side. Max went back to watching the flames. Hunger gnawed at his ribs and contracted his stomach until his muscled ached.
He couldn’t deny he was excited about eating something cooked. He spent most days eating maggots, dog food, raw rats, and lizards, fire was a gift as well as water.
He saw the skin around her eyes crinkle and he guessed she was smiling. “Bandits,” Max growled in response, his own eyes flashing, “Good scrap at those camps, not just Guzzaline.” The corner of him mouth twitched upward in a slight smile.
Rarely did he hesitate to raid Bandit camps, often more times than not, he’d come across some pretty great finds. Anything from canned food to ammo. But Bandits were dangerous and some even turned human flesh into leather. He had cheated death more times raiding camps that from anything else. It was the world they lived in now and he had to survive…and so did she.
Max glanced back up at the female and saw her eyes focused on the storm. He shifted with a grunt, his bad leg growing stiff. He stretched it out, unable to keep it bent any longer, and hoped he wasn’t invading too much into her space.
Her eyes jumped to him at the sudden movement, hand darting to her waist, to the knife strapped there. When she realised that he was only getting comfortable, the muscles in her back relaxed and she exhaled slowly.
“Injured?” She gestured at his leg vaguely. Even minor injuries could be fatal. Blood sickness, night sweats, and all sorts of problems could arise from even the most minor of scratches.
She pulled her knife free and speared the lizard tail. She could stand to wait. Once upon a time she would eat first. She had provided the food, cooked it, prepared it. But it wasn’t once upon a time, and he needed to eat. Extending her arm, she offered the charred meat, dripping with fat, toward the stranger.
“Eat. Think of hunting tomorrow. When winds die.”
