While Meryl wandered in the camp, looking for a man to satisfy her desires, the boys kept talking to each other.
"How often did your parents teach you what laid beyond the valley?" Oswald asked, jealous.
"Every day, twice as much when I got injured." He said, massaging his forearm. The bandage was gone, but not all of the pain. He wasn't sure to be able to hold a bow properly, but it was the best option he had.
"I was thinking about it for some time. Ruth too was intelligent, she knew how to read, I'm pretty sure that for your family's sake you learnt as well."
Tom, on the upper bed, nodded. The tiny vibrations carried by the wooden structure let Oswald continue. "Teach me how to read. That'll avoid us plenty of troubles. I can't promise you anything in exchange, but I'll do my best to-."
"No need." Tom cut him short. He leaned forward, to look at the probable position of his friend under him and winked.
