Johann had been the better fisherman, but Peter had been the better guide, albeit haltingly because of his leg wound. They’d spent a few hours together, fishing with sharpened sapling switches. Peter had, of course, known it could be done and had even watched natives doing so during a remote archeological dig. He was grateful that Johann had actual experience. From his own extensive scientific research, he knew it was vastly different to know how to do a thing versus actually having done it.
Although Johann was very slow to admit it, he recognized that while he was incredibly knowledgeable about his homeland in the Honellaken Valley, it was because he’d traipsed all over it since he was a child. However, Peter had developed an ability to keep a mental map of where he’d traveled to, due to the many expeditions he’d led in very remote parts of the world.
They walked back into their makeshift camp, Peter in the lead, half a dozen good-sized trout skewered on a switch.
“The intrepid hunter-gatherers return!” Amy quipped.
“What’s that, now?” Heidi asked.
“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just being silly,” Amy replied. But she noticed that Heidi still looked puzzled.
It didn’t take long before they had a fire going, with the rich smell of roasting fish wafting through their campground, carpeted in pine needles. As the sun set the evergreen trees alight with dappled yellows and oranges, the adults settled in for a quiet evening in front of an open fire. Parting here was an accident, of course, and they’d gone to rescue Freida armed only with weapons, not camping provisions. The fish they’d returned with were sufficient for everyone to feel full, although it made for a messy and simple meal. The fifth fish was shared between the men. The last fish made Tiny very happy.
When they had all finished, it was quiet except for the crackle of their small fire.
“How do we get back to our kids?” Peter asked bluntly, restarting a conversation they’d stalled on earlier in the afternoon.
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