“They are if you cook them right,” Alice said from where she sat on the ground. Ty turned his head in her direction, his mouth open. Quinn barked laughter and set off for the nearest stretch of trees.
The air was cooler beneath the wide branches of the pines, his footsteps muted on fallen needles. He watched overhead for the telltale shadow of a squirrel or chipmunk, but the limbs were devoid of any life. Even the birds were quiet here. He continued on, pushing through a stand of poplar and down a short valley that ended in a rocky stream flowing slowly, its middle only a foot deep. He was about to cross it and continue on to the other side where a promising copse of pines waited, when three long shadows floating idly in the stream caught his attention. The fish swam against the light current, their dark bodies curving lazily to keep even with its pace. Quinn edged closer to the stream, careful not to let his shadow fall upon the water. He aimed through the sights, centering on the middle and largest fish of the group, and pulled the trigger.
The rifle boomed and water flashed in the air, droplets catching the sun.
Quinn pulled the gun away from his cheek and watched as two darting shadows flew away down the stream, vanishing in an instant. Silt churned up from the bottom and clouded the water as he watched.
The white belly of a fish bobbed to the surface.
“Yes!” Quinn said, scrambling down the bank. He stepped into the water and grasped the trout, pulling it from the stream. It was over a foot long, its body a deep green, speckled with dark spots. Its gills worked feebly, opening and closing several times before stilling. When he turned its slippery length over, he could find no wound where the bullet had entered its body. The concussion of the shot had killed it. Quinn smiled, raising his eyes to the far bank.
A wolf watched him from its edge.
He froze, taking in the stark outline of its tall ears, the long snout, watchful eyes. Its coat was black with tan splotches on its chest and flanks. Its mouth opened, its tongue appearing to swipe at its chops. His fingers flexed on the rifle, and he took a step back out of the stream.
The wolf spun and bolted away, gone before he could fully register that it hadn’t been a wolf at all. It had been a dog. A huge dog with a winking collar at its neck.
He jogged all the way back to the glade, a branch scratching his cheek as he went, but he didn’t slow down until he was beside the small pile of branches and leaves Ty and Alice had built in preparation for a fire.
“There’s gotta be a house nearby,” he said, breathing hard.
“What? Where did you get a fish?” Alice said, pointing at his hand.
“Huh?” Quinn looked down at the trout, having forgotten it with the appearance of the dog. “Oh, there’s a stream not too far. I shot it.”
“You shot it?” Alice said, raising her eyebrows.
“Yeah. Anyways, when I looked up at the other side of the stream, there was a dog standing there with a collar on.”
“A dog?” Ty asked, gaining his feet.
“Yeah, a big one. German Shepherd I think.”
“Cool,” Ty said.
“Where there’s a dog, there’s got to be a house. Can’t be too far away,” Quinn said.
“You’re probably right,” Alice said, setting the tinder aflame with her lighter. “But can we cook that fish before we leave, or are we having sushi?”
~
The trout was delicious. They cooked it on a flat rock beside the small fire, and even without any spices, the meat was rich and flavorful. When they had eaten their fill, Alice wrapped the small remainder in a large, dry leaf and tucked it away in one of her pockets. They didn’t speak, each content with having a full stomach, and Ty leaned against his mother and fell asleep in the sunshine that drenched the glade. After a time, Quinn glanced at Alice and drew a line in the dirt with one finger.
“I didn’t get a chance to ask how you two found me at the compound,” he said.
“It wasn’t that hard.”