AVALON

Chapter 44 - Twang

Hey guys, just a fun chapter. MY uni exams start on monday and run through for two weeks so I may be a bit slow on the next update. A big thank you to all those of oyu who vote, it really makes my day to see you guys enjoying the story.

This ones a bit of a fun chapter with a bit of a foundation for activities to come in Av's life :)

avalon POV

"Ah goanna woman? I think we have a problem with your whole breakfast idea," Jaime says hesitantly.

"What's that?" I turn around to him as I rummage through my bag for my small frying pan. I didn't really pack my stuff, well, I threw in some more clothes but my bag is basically packed like it is – minus food - when I go on stock camps. A few basic cooking utensils included.

Dad said not to take it but Nathan was all like, 'Are you kidding? She will want to escape from the heinous beast every chance she can! What's she gonna do go stay in a motel with Amber?'

Dad thinks of the city as just concrete and glass, he's horrified by the whole idea of them. Dad probably thinks our neighbors are too close and they are a good couple of hours drive away.

Anyway Dad and Nathan argued until Nathan went on Google maps and showed Dad that I wasn't going to camp out under a graffiti covered, crumbling six lane bridge with savage, cannibalistic homeless people that would be just waiting to jump me when I fell asleep, that there were still plenty areas of bush around the joint. Dad then went on to say that I should pack my handgun if I was going to camp out... that bad people can live in the bush.

Nathan laughed and said 'yeah, hate to say it Dad, but that will be Av.'

Dad didn't even crack a smile; he said I must take my handgun.

Angus then walked in then to say you weren't allowed to just ride around with guns in Australia and that Dad had been watching too many fictitious shows with Dell.

Dad has no idea, he's never left the station for anything but sales and shows, Angus had to leave for once for a few weeks to do an Ag cross business management intensive thingy or whatever at some uni. He thinks he's got the low down on anything suburbanized. Boy has he got some information coming his way when I get back.

We have these stock huts all over our farm but there was a period when we found that some had been broken into and the ammunition taken as well as food. Dad didn't like the thought that we were feeding and arming a reprobate, especially on a cattle station. He went all frantic and stuff, sending us all out to check every paddock we own armed to the teeth with instructions to shoot first and ask questions later. Apparently some guy did it in New South Wales as well; he managed months on the run from police by raiding stock huts.

Nathan loved it; he dug up an old box of Pop's shoe polish and painted our faces like we were Army snipers, we end up staying out there for about three weeks and Nathan nearly shot Murphy when he came down our border looking for scrubbers. So all the ammunition is now hidden in the huts in special places. So Dad's a bit jaded by people, he doesn't even like to let people that want to write about station's on ours to observe us.

'Get Jordan to make you a wooden one or something,' Dad had muttered.

Jordan spluttered out whatever he was drinking, 'what in hell? I can't fricken make a gun!'

Dad fired up then saying that Jordan should stop tinkering in the shed and buying tools and stuff of the internet so much if he couldn't make a simple request from time to time.

'Dad, its fine I have my knife, settle petal,' I had given him a hug but I saw he was still worried.

Jaime rubs his belly bringing me back to the here and now, "we don't have any brekkie stuff! Hello!"