Who: Quinn and Carlita
When: Morning of Day Eleven
What: Taking care of the homestead.
Where: The climber tree
Rating: G so far!
Quinn had decided that treking out into the middle of nowhere, freaking out while Payne was killing a huge eleboar and then having to help rescue her, butcher and carry a chunk of the animal home was...more excitement than he was up for, honestly. The pain in his chest had been awful the day before and he had pretty much lingered on his flat rock by the stream. Counting stirpips and flying leeches, watching their unending struggle against each other. He'd dozed through most of day ten, just rousing long enough to chow down on a crispy skewer of eleboar meat when it was handed to him. The meat was juicy, salty and sweet at the same time. So amazingly like pork.
Day Eleven saw him feeling much more like himself. Someone had made a spade out of shale and climber vines left to harden so he had ventured away and dug himself a small latrine to use for theday. He knew that the librarian guy wanted people to pee in his leather pit but Quinn couldn't quite bring himself to do that. Call it a touch of lingering fragile modern sensibilities. Once that was taken care of, he's gathered as much wood as he could carry and brought it back to get the firepit going. Since then, he'd sat at the edge of the camp next to the fire, gazing out at the field, chatting idly to anyone who passed by as he fed to the fire.
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