The foothills, two weeks later
“Want a drink?”
Jenny accepted the offered canteen and drank thirstily. “We’ll have to find a stream pretty quick,” she noted. “About out of water.”
Mike pointed. “I expect we’ll find one up ahead – see that line of trees across the ferns? Stay sharp, this still looks like roc country up here.” He opened the big Parks double for the fifth time that morning, checking the loads in both barrels were high-explosive penetrators. Jenny adjusted her grip on the old Remington she carried at port arms.
The two young pioneers were heading due north, crossing a five-kilometer-wide fern prairie on the approaches to the mountains. Two rocs, apparently a mated pair, had just passed by them half a kilometer away, heading south. They had slowed to look over the two humans, but in the end had turned and went on their way. Mike watched them go from where he crouched on a small rise, staring at the giant predators over the barrels of the Parks as Jenny hid in the ferns a few meters away.
“I guess we’re too small for them to bother with when there’s bosers in the area,” Jenny had observed.
Mike nodded agreement. “Or maybe they’ve already eaten today. Either way, let’s get the hell off this open ground. We should be able to make it into the trees on those hills by evening.”
Mike set off again in the long, ground-devouring stride he’d used since he was twelve. Jenny matched his pace easily now. Two weeks on the march had toughened her. Even though she only came up to Mike’s chin, she had no trouble keeping up with him now.
“Think we’ll be in those mountains in the next day or so?”
“I reckon,” Mike replied.
“What are we going to do when we get there?” The look in Jenny’s eyes held another, unspoken question. Mike suddenly found reason to look at the opposite horizon.
“Hunt, scout around, see what there is up there. Wander around. Set up a base camp of some sort.”
Jenny moved the old Remington, loosening its sling to hang it over her right shoulder. “We should be able to build a cabin up there. These trees they have here, one or two makes a house.”
“Maybe. I’ve got an axe, bow saw and an adze back at my base camp. If we like it up there, I’ll make a trip back down for the rest of my stuff.”
Jenny smiled her secret smile again.
Their relationship had been an odd one from the moment of the rescue. While Jenny had felt an understandable rush of gratitude for this taciturn young man who’d saved her life, that feeling had deepened into something more. Respect and admiration for the young hunter had progressed into a more profound affection. She was certain Mike had similar feelings for her, judging from the way his face reddened if she smiled at him in a certain way.
But she didn’t know quite how to take the next step, and she wasn’t sure why he hadn’t tried. She didn’t know that Mike didn’t know how, either.
His tendency to wander the woods for weeks at a time had deterred the normal girlfriends that a teenage boy acquires during his formative years. While his peers were chasing girls, dating, and learning the ins and outs of relationships with the opposite sex, Mike had been wandering the dark timber, high mountain meadows and alpine tundra of the Salmon River range. His solitary lifestyle had been, and was, an eminently satisfactory one, but it had left Mike with one glaring social handicap.
He’d never had a girlfriend, not even casually.
Now, he found himself spending his days and nights with an attractive girl two years younger than himself, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.
He stole a glance at Jenny as she hiked along beside him. She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, he thought, an all-too-familiar feeling of frustration rising in him again. She wore a short, blue denim skirt and a black t-shirt in the hot sunshine. Her legs were browned by the sun and tight-muscled by their many days of walking. As was her habit during the heat of the day, she’d gathered the ends of her big black v-neck t-shirt together, leaving her stomach bare. A hint of cleavage showed at the dip in the neckline. The small wound on her temple was healed now, leaving only a tiny scar on side of her pretty, heart-shaped face. Her blonde curls bobbed under the brim of the floppy leather hat as she walked.
Mike ground his teeth together.
They reached the trees an hour later, and there as Mike had predicted was a small brook bubbling over a rocky streambed. They drank their fill of the sparkling clear water, refilled canteens and rested in the shade of the pines for an hour.
“We’ve only got about half a klick before we hit trees again. We can cross that in a few minutes, then we’ll be climbing into those hills. You ready for a few days of climbing into those mountains?”
Jenny rolled over onto her back, chewing reflectively on a stick of boser jerky. “Oh, I’m ready for it. Think we’ll find a place up there to settle down for a while?”
Mike nodded. “I’d like to find a nice site before the rainy season starts. We’ll want to have a good shelter before then.”
Jenny rolled back to her side again, her movement releasing a burst of peppery fragrance from the ferns she lay on. She reached over for Mike’s hand. He jumped, but Jenny pried his hand away from the map he was looking over and curled her fingers around his.
“How’d you get this scar on your finger?”
“Uh,” Mike stammered, “a skinning knife, when I was twelve. Dressing a deer.”
“Oh.” Jenny looked up at Mike. His face was burning red. He doesn’t know how to react, she realized. “You killed a deer when you were only twelve?” Better to steer him onto familiar ground.
“It was my third. Got my first one at ten. First elk at thirteen, first bear at sixteen.” Mike took a deep breath. The velvet-soft touch of Jenny’s fingers on his was exquisite agony.
“No wonder you wanted to be a pioneer.”
“We should probably get moving. I’d like to find a good spot to overnight before it gets dark,” Mike suggested. Jenny nodded her agreement, letting go of his hand to stand up. Mike’s fingers burned where she had touched them as he slowly got to his feet to gather his pack and rifle.
Late afternoon found them on a wooded bench halfway up a hillside. A tiny brook trickled into a pool on the lower edge of the bench, while a stand of ferns promised a soft bed on the upper. Mike kindled a small fire to boil water for their customary evening stew of jerked boser meat.
“Haven’t seen any roc sign since we left the open country,” Jenny said.
Mike nodded. “They don’t come into woods like this. Too big.”
The darkness was gathering around them, accompanied by the usual chirping and chattering of the nocturnal creatures of the woods. Their meal and cleanup finished, the young pilgrims spread their bedrolls out side by side as they had done the previous fourteen nights. Mike kicked off his boots and politely averted his face as Jenny removed boots and denim skirt, covering herself at last with a blanket. They lay silently side-by-side, watching as the stars began to wink on in the darkening sky.
“Mike,” Jenny began, “There’s something we should talk about.”
“What’s that?” Mike asked, suddenly nervous again.
Jenny rolled over closer to Mike, propping herself up on her elbows to look down into his face.
“You saved my life the first day we met, Mike. I owe you my life, but there’s something more to you and me than that, isn’t there?”
Mike nodded. “Yes, I think so.”
“To tell you the truth, Michael No-Middle-Name Crider, I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you. I’m pretty sure you’re falling in love with me, too.”
Mike managed a nod. “Yes, I am… I’ve never… I mean, all my life I’ve been kind of a loner, and…”
Jenny laid a soft finger on his lips to hush him. “I know. But it’s not really complicated, Mike. Being in love is the main thing. We can work out the details as we go, don’t you think?”
Jenny leaned forward suddenly, kissing Mike gently on the mouth.
Mike froze. He wasn’t sure how to react, but Jenny was. She drew back a moment, almost reflectively; then, decisively, forcefully, she rolled over on Mike, straddling his waist, and leaned down to kiss him fiercely. He wrapped his arms around her slim body, pulled her close and returned the kiss for all he was worth.
The largest of Forest’s three moons rose to cast a silver light over the scene. Jenny broke away from the kiss now, and sat upright, still straddling his middle. Slowly, she pulled the black t-shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Her breasts were small, high and round. She reached for Mike, coaxing him upright, guiding his mouth to her nipple.
They were aware of nothing else for some time. The hardships of the journey, the deaths of Jenny’s family, all the rigors of the past weeks gave way to the imperative of their youth, of their bodies, of the drive to survive. They loved each other frantically, driving away the specter of death with the most basic reaffirmation of life, collapsing at last to sleep in each other’s arms. The three Moons of Forest watched over the young lovers until dawn.
To see more of Animal’s writing, visit his page at Crimson Dragon Publishing or Amazon.
I got your number
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6WTdTwcmxyo
Don’t you forget it
Don’t lose it either:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hU06r5223LQ
I got your number
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kd-P_wwFPCw
Hey Kinnath, I’m sorry I was so pedantic last week. I didn’t mean to correct your typing; I was trying to help sort your file names. I might have been tipsy.
no problem.
I could not figure out how to copy the artist list from Windows Media Player. So, I was just typing them.
And Windows Media Player stupidly orders things alphabetically by the first “word” in the artist name.
Sort by An and The!
🍻
I’m skipping this installment – and all the others.
.
.
.
because I just bought the book a few days ago – next up after Lathe Of Heaven – thanks, Animal!
I want to pick on the tag failure – but I make the same mistake… 🙁
Maaan…
The Crimson Dragon link returns a 404 error to me.
Same.
I suppose someone slew the dragon.
I found this:
https://crimsondragonpublishing.com/ward-clark-aka-anderson-gentry/
But it doesn’t have his book list.
One of life’s great mysteries
But despite the roughly billions of dollars spent on more than 30 homeless and housing programs during the 2018-2023 fiscal years, California does not have reliable data needed to fully understand why the problem didn’t improve in many cities, according to a 2024 state audit.
The audit found California spent $24 billion to tackle homelessness over the previous five years but did not consistently track whether the huge outlay of public money actually improved the situation.
The homeless advocacy community is is well fed and comfy, though.
Which one of you suggested replacing “despite” with “because of” ? That does work here.
Despite all the junk food I eat, I cannot lose weight.
Which one of you suggested replacing “despite” with “because of” ? That does work here.
I believe that was part of Putrid Meat’s most recent musings. And yes, it definitely applies here.
Bring back the workhouses and poor farms, and see what happens.
Betteridge’s Law, converse?
Is it Friday yet? I need a reminder to be Stoic. My oldest kid is on my last nerve right now. Mrs. TOK came in today with one of those Oura rings that a friend gave her. (He got a new one). Those things are like $300-400. My kid says “Oh my roomate (at the cult house) got one of those with her tax refund”. I lost it. How does this woman spend her tax check on that, but has to have my kid’s entire paycheck to pay for her kids’ medical bills and food?
Here is your reminder:
Getting angry at the past helps nothing.
Right from the man himself. Thanks!
/thinks back to the people who were struggling with the mortgage/rent but could always afford to go out
When I was a framing carpenter working for cash, one of my co-workers would always bum money “To buy milk for the baby”.
This man always had cigarettes and bought beer after work everyday.
Priorities.
It bothers me that my kid still talks to her regularly, and things she’s the bees knees. She STILL doesn’t see that these people took advantage of her.
But as you said, that’s out of my control.
Mrs. MYB and I were discussing a gal we saw on the news a few days ago. She lamented that her welfare benefits really didn’t cover the needs of her kids
She was adorned with tatoos, expensive-looking earrings, long artificial nails, extavagant fake eyelashes and an elaborate hairdo. Ron, you’re right about priorities. And you have to wonder if some people think that a week or even a day is long-term.
MYB — She’s trying to attract the affections of a certain type of male, who will also be unable to cover the needs of her kids.
So you’ve been to the local casinos.
Though the casinos have great air exchangers a non-smoker can smell the odor from cigarettes of long, long ago. Back when Friday Crab-legs specials were fashionable I could still smell my night before clothes the next day.
We only ate and ran but we always stayed long enough to get our share of the buffet.
You and Mojeaux should meet for drinks.
🤔 Aw, dammit.
LOL We do email occasionally.
There’s a piece of general advice against hooking up with coworkers.
It REALLY applies when you work in a BL-4 lab.
https://legalinsurrection.com/2025/05/hhs-officially-suspends-research-at-nih-high-security-pathogen-lab/
I’m not sure if I should be shocked or amused.
amucked and shosed.
What is the purpose of dog licenses today? More specific to why I’m visiting town hall in an hour, why the fuck would a dog license need to be renewed? After P’nut I don’t trust how NYers would react to Lil having an unlicensed existence.
Is there a fee?
Yup. It’s less than the late fee. My problem is that having licensed her originally, they know she exists.
Having said THAT, I’m sure that my previous interactions with Animal Control would have been (much) more expensive had she been an illegal furback.
Then the remaining purpose is to raise funds, even if it does so poorly.
Dog catchers need jobs.
Have to pay for dog parks …
The chapter for animals in the county code has 4 of 7 articles dedicated to dogs.
It’s about control. In most places, the license costs far more to process than the county receives in revenue. In VA, vets are required to report all dogs to the state who receive a rabies vaccine. Also, VA has all but banned giving rabies vaccines yourself.
We learned that the hard way after getting a threatening letter from the county that they would come seize and put down our dog if the license wasn’t renewed. Easier to stay off the radar by ordering the rabies vaccines out of state and administering ourselves. I’m guessing most of our neighbors don’t even bother going through the hassle and expense of ordering out of state and their dogs go at risk.
The Episcopalians have decided they’re getting out of the refugee resettling business rather than touch icky Afrikaners.
https://www.episcopalchurch.org/publicaffairs/letter-from-presiding-bishop-sean-rowe-on-episcopal-migration-ministries/
Short version – “Fuck Whitey!”
Really, how racist are these people? If you have principles, then anyone facing genocide is in need of help, not just nonwhites.
“Fuck Whitey” is one of their principles.
“Please listen carefully as our menu options have recently changed.”
They haven’t changed in at least a year. When are you going to drop that statement?
Never.
No one ever thinks to take that out.
Speaking of the enslavement of the poor and unhomed…
The county should send a truck (accompanied by the sheriff) to all the streetside hobo jungles and round up any able bodied people they find (women, too- equity above all) and put them to work picking up trash and pulling weeds. at the end of they day, pay them the daily rate for state prisoners via a debit card. Refuseniks spend 72 hours in the clink.
What is the purpose of dog licenses today?
Same as guns. When your dog goes on a wild killing spree they will be able to trace her back to you.
That is why I keep ghost cats.