Based on the orientation of the clearing, they estimated that they were northeast of the clearing—the same direction the creatures had come from in their last encounter.
“If we move consistently northeast we should cross any path that they have heading from their camp from the south, west or east [?]”
The two of them headed out. Etelka kept the compass in her hand, checking it frequently, and Pool carried the heavy rifle from Baba Yaga’s Hut, and also most of the camp supplies.
It seems like days had passed, Etelka kept checking her watch almost as often as she checked her compass. Only a few hours had passed, but due the dark and quiet unending forest landscape they couldn’t tell the minutes from the hours. They avoided talk and tried to move as silently as possible, a method they had considered—most predators don’t like being surprised.
Etelka insisted that they would announce themselves once they had located the camp of their quarry.
Unlike their other senses’ inability to accurately tell them time, their stomachs had no such problems. They stopped on the edge of a small brook and found a comfortable spot on the mossy bank.
While Etelka unloaded their cookware, Pool retraced their path a short ways to gather some dry-ish kindling and sticks to make a small fire to heat their water-rather the water from the stream, both for their porage supper and to replenish their potable drinking water.
She had just set up a circle of rocks and placed out a small tripod with their camp boiling-pot and was generally crouched down, still overlooking the stream, but in a shallow, two meters across, facing the stream, but between two enormous oaks and backed by a pair of fallen decaying and moss-covered trunks, when she heard unexpected splashes in the stream.
Pool still had the rifle, but Etelka was not unarmed. She crouched even lower, turning toward the stream in the direction of the sounds.
Work in progress. Mistakes and misspellings are present. This is a very rough draft. Copyright 2021 Ion Fyr iorfyr.net
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Ion Fyr 