23 Two hunters

Becca

We settle down at the table in the little clearing between the houses, slumping down to keep up the act of weak humans.

After dropping my backpack on the ground, I take off my hiking boots, realizing happily that blood is on my socks again.

“How are you two, Love Birds?” Brock asks, exiting the packhouse.

I sigh heavily, showing how tired I am. “The cliff you sent us to was far harder to reach than you explained,” I reply accusingly.

His laughter roars through the forest, scaring the birds away.

I open my mouth in mock exaggeration. “You knew, and you sent us anyway?” I continue, and he continues with his laughter. I fold my arms over my chest, furrow my brows, and pout. “That wasn’t very nice of you. My toes are bleeding again.” I lift my leg to show him the bloodied sock.

Brock comes closer. “You’ll live,” he shrugs, settling beside me. “Besides, I made dinner. That has to conciliate you.”

I look over at the campfire and see that he is roasting something. It looks like the ham