Never Go Home

Chapter 3 - No More Rules

The rest of the day I spent hunting, setting snares, and finding nuts and roots. Berry bushes, not picked clean by the animals, were my haven for an hour or more. Instead of hanging on to the fruit, I snacked until my belly was full. Perhaps it was selfish of me, but then I didn't have to share with the other two.

I approached the shelter about an hour before sunset. I had snared one squirrel, now dressed and cleaned. Hopefully, Mindy or Becka had gotten the fire going. If they hadn't, then I doubted their ability to stay alive until they reached their first village.

Smoky air wafted by me before I could see the shelter. Mindy minded the fire as I approached. There was hope for them after all.
"Squirrel meat." I held up the raw flesh for her to see.

Mindy cringed, but she pointed a wooden spoon at the pot hanging over the fire. "I was making a stew. Do you want it in there or would you rather roast it alone?"

Mindy acting nice was odd but not uncommon when I could provide something she could not.

"I'll cut it up for the stew. We won't have as much cleaning to do afterward." I smiled, hoping to ward off any other nastiness for the evening.

I sliced the meat into the stew as Becka came out of the house. She and I shared a congenial nod. Maybe tonight we could all be civil. My body relaxed, and I settled into my cooking routine.

After the last morsel fell into the slow boiling liquid, I stood, my back tight after leaning over the pot. As I stepped away, my foot kicked a few coals away from the fire pit. I sucked in a breath and cursed my clumsiness. We had to be careful with rains being so unpredictable. Being out here alone, a stray spark could prove deadly.

A shred of paper poked out of the coals near the ring of rocks. It caught my attention. Paper? Paper wasted in the fire pit? It was a precious commodity. Few people made it, and peddlers sold it for a hefty sum.

"What's with the paper?" I looked up to Mindy and Becka. I minded the fire last night and didn't see anything. Someone could have dug it up though it didn't look dirty.

"Well, we needed to get the fire started." Becka crossed her arms over her chest. "We knew you would have something in your bag to help, you being Ms. Independent and all."

My hackles rose. She was looking anywhere but me. Dread roiled in my stomach. Had she said my bag? They looked through my bag? I knew how to start a fire, and I kept an old magnifying glass for that. Other methods I wasn't as good at, but this was about paper. The only paper I had in my bag was my favorite book.

No!

"You didn't." My voice came out as a whisper, my rage making me deadly quiet. Becka went from looking smug to scared, her complexion drained. I charged towards her, pulling up short. "You tore up my book to start a fire?" I jabbed my finger into her collarbone, my lips curling in a snarl.

Becka gulped and took a step back. "I didn't think it was a big deal. I thought... thought that was why you had it with you."

Her words didn't convince me. Stealing and hiding my books was one of their favorite pastimes. But now they had stooped even lower.

"I doubt that. You both know what books mean to me. You did it on purpose." I shoved her shoulder. She'd burned my book! "You had to destroy one last thing of mine, didn't you?" I turned away, kicking at some gravel, trying to contain my rage.

My instinct from years of stifling my emotions urged me to flee, and I could feel the bubbles of red-hot anger rippling to the surface making my breath heavy and my limbs shake. Avoiding conflict was ingrained in me. I should go.