Aldren glanced up at their approach briefly and continued to stir his stew. The mixture of spices, vegetables, and meat-filled the little clearing. Gabs saw a small smile play across Saddy’s lips and heard her stomach retroactively growl.

Humans have the need to eat, she reasoned, just like she did in her natural form. The intake of food was social, provided one of the basic needs to live, and could nurture camaraderie. Food was also a demonstration of violence. Animals and humans, in her case, are killed in a usually violent fashion. The trees and plants were raped of their produce and seeds. These were the very progeny of the plants and, by extension, earth itself. It harmed and slaughtered the environment for the selfish desire of human survival.

Maybe, Gabs thought, humans were more like her kind than she thought. Judging by Saddy’s reaction, Aldren was well versed in the concoction of cooking. He was proficient at the defiling of earth’s offerings. Of course, he would be, Gabs reasoned. There was little if anything, Aldren wasn’t proficient in.

“This smells wonderful,” Saddy pecked Aldren’s cheek. “I’ve forgotten and missed your cooking skills. You always knew how to look after your men and keep their bellies full.” She choked on the last sentence Aldren’s description of what had happened returned to her. Quite likely, the lost men were filling animals’ bellies as they sat here and filled theirs.

Aldren didn’t look up but Gabs watched the exchange with extreme interest. “This smells great. Honestly, I’m starved. You’re revitalizing my appetite.” It occurred to Gabs that she wasn’t lying. Three days had passed since she had her last meal and would be losing strength soon. While the stew’s smell didn’t appeal to her, the flesh she ate had little smell or, if the being was unwashed, could be considered to smell putrid. What was the point of aroma, she wondered, if it wasn’t to cloy the human’s destruction and to present the death of plants and animals in an aromantic package. With an appealing smell, the death they wrought was hidden and acceptable.

Weak creatures, she thought.
If they have to hide their actions under niceties, they did not deserve to live. Well, glancing at Aldren, most did not deserve to live. There were few exceptions.

Saddy ladled a healthy portion into her wooden bowl. With a metal spoon fashioned from a piece of cast-off metal, she dipped it into the broth and her smile broadened. She passed Aldren and Gabs bowls and spoons. “Tomorrow, we’re returning to a camp where we think our enemies slaughtered multiple people. It’s best to eat and rest now as we may not have the opportunity tomorrow. We’ll need our strength.”

Aldren continued to stare at the fire below the cooking pot. The fire cast indistinct shadows making his face and body seem old and weak. Gabs felt that he wanted to protest and there was little reason to return. The slaughter had been fairly absolute. There were no survivors. Their return and inspection were really a waste of time. Aldren had to know this. He was there. But, at least for the moment, Saddy was in control.

Gabs sipped her stew. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it would not be enough.

With little additional conversation, the sun dipped and night approached. Abandoning her habits of sleeping in a tree for protection, she joined Alden and Gabs in unrolling a bed roll and took her place by the fire. Their bodies created a triangle around the cooking fire to keep warm as the temperature fell.

Saddy slid easily into sleep, curled on her side away from the fire. Aldren stared up, seeking the solace of the stars, and attempted to find tranquility in the insect’s song but his thoughts were consumed by what awaited them tomorrow.

No, that wasn’t right. He dreaded Saddy’s reaction to the camp. No. Her reaction to him is what denied him sleep. But, at this time, she already thought him a coward when he expressed that he didn’t want to return. They had an argument that was, thankfully, interrupted by Gabs’ presence and recovery.

He didn’t understand why.
Why would she want to see the dead? Why would she want to waste time when there was nothing left living? More importantly, why didn’t she trust him?

He had noticed how she had tended to Gabs’ wounds and provided basic care. She had spoken kindly and was attentive to the woman’s needs. But, the same courtesy wasn’t provided to him. Him, who loved her and who she professed to love.

Aldren turned to his side, wrapped his arms around his shoulders, and pulled his knees towards his chin. Did she not love or trust him at all then? Why would she make him go back? Why did she hate him so?

Eventually, he fell into an uneasy sleep. His dreams were filled with smoke, soot, and burning flesh. Tightening his eyes, his face twisted into a silent scream. It was a desperate plea for help.

He was back at camp. His stride was purposeful as he stepped on lost fingers while avoiding the rag doll bodies that were freely flung around the camp. Mud mixed with blood splashed on his pant legs and became lodged in the traction of his shoes. It was the sounds. Men crying, screaming, some even pleading with him as he passed. As he left the camp’s boundaries, the few who were breathing knew that he wasn’t going to offer help. He wasn’t going to call on a god to vanish the night and alleviate the pain.

Rather, he left them. Godless. Hopeless. That was, perhaps, more painful than the quartering of their bodies.