Scavenging wasn’t technically part of the job description as a scout, but what else was she going to do? It sure as hell beat sitting around the camp and listening to people bitch and moan about what they missed, rather than being proactive to work for what they had — or could have. Privilege did that sort of thing to you, though, she supposed: wanting things handed to you instead of working for them. A year and some change should’ve been enough time to adapt but apparently some of them still weren’t getting the message. Life was never going to be what it used to be.
You see, Mack had practice in the department of going to bed hungry where others didn’t, and so, she didn’t often experience the same kinds of fever dreams regarding food that everyone else did. She knew what it was like to survive on very little sustenance, even if she was still getting used to the portion control part of it where water was concerned; honestly, it was just too fucking hot and humid not to stay hydrated.
So when, on approach, the smell of meat hit her nostrils, Mack wrinkled and wiggled her nose in a move reminiscent of her favorite witch of all time. ”Ugh!” The word was drawn out, although whether it was in reply to Ellen and Spence or the aroma was hard to tell, at least until a few furry creatures decided to present themselves. Was she the only one that paid attention anymore?
“Goddamnit, not you fuck nuggets again,” that southern twang she normally worked so hard to hide making itself known for the briefest of moments. Reaching up to grasp the strap of her bag as it was slung across her body, Mack pulled her leg back and kicked it forward to punt a raccoon — seriously these things were not fucking raccoons — back into the bush it had scurried out from.
“Move it, Snow White!” she yelled, gripping Spencer’s bicep none-too-kindly and jerking him forward to get him moving. “The last thing we need is more of your woodland friends dropping by.”