"Always, mate!" Arthur grinned. "Tell ya what, you take this one. Bona fide mooseworthy, this knife. Bearworthy, too, my oath." He offered the bloodied knife hilt-first, then gave Much a jovial clap on the shoulder. "We're eating like fuckin' kings tonight, lads!"
Before he turned back toward the trail, he caught a glimpse of Stutely hanging back a ways, brow furrowed in worry. Same old Stoots, always worrited about something. And all that stuff about computers and Y2K? He'd sounded half batty!
Ah well, get the moose cooking, it'd all work out. Stuff always made more sense on a full stomach.
Stutely, meanwhile, had fallen into step with Scarlet, worry gnawing at him. Millennium bugs and feds, Christ. Twenty-one years out here with nothing but his paranoia. "I dunno what we do here," he admitted quietly. "We can't bloody leave him."