It's almost evening.
The carpet of leaves and twigs crunching under each step.
It's kind of hot.
The coarse palm getting sweaty.
It might rain.
The pheasant from this morning will serve for dinner too. But if it rains...maybe there will be a good hunt tomorrow.
"Hmm...", the stick in his hand making a trail on the ground after him.
It's almost past dusk, the slanting rays touching his feet. Soon the sun will drop. It'll take time to return
"Time to return- *rustle*
The stick is stuck on something. Something crumpling.
"Hm? Something dead?", he nudges the black polythene bag with his boot.
It's tied with a loose double knot.
A subtle rhythmic visible in the pale violet of the dusk.
"Kittens?", his fingers untie the knot.
The bright eyes open to look up at his bearded face. The little hands reaching up, grazing against his rough callouses, the small toothless mouth opening up.
"Kyaaa~"
"Weird...", his gaze remains on the little existence. Bare. With a piece of cloth around it's waist. His fingers graze on it's soft skin.
"Hmph. Should've tied the knot tighter. It won't die like this.", he ties up the bag, again with the double knot. As it was.
...
It's pitch dark.
His feet slightly stagger as he reaches the cabin door. The surrounding barely visible in the yellow glimmer of the door lamp.
The entire house dead. Only a faint light can be seen flickering inside, through the window.
His hand reaches for the knob.
*clack*
"Is that you?", a voice calls out from beside the flickering light.
"Yes"
"Welcome home", with a shuffle, the figure walks out of the room, stepping in the dark corridor.
"Hmm.", he takes off the jacket. Finally breathing.
"You're sweaty. Want a bath?"
"Yes", he steps into the room. Turning up the light.
"You will lose your eyes, if you keep reading in such dim light."
"I will be careful from next time."
The white skirt flutters while the kettle whistles on the stove.
"The water's boiling."
"Could've managed without it", he steps in the bathroom. The cold floor soothing.
*sloshhhh* ... He fills the bucket with cold water. It's freezing.
She enters.
The boiling water hitting the cold.
*CRACKLE* - the thunder roars in the sky.
Startled, the empty kettle almost drops from her hand.
Their hands touch, clasped around the empty vessel. For a moment only.
Only for a moment, their eyes meet. Before both pull away.
....!! 'the bag'
His eyes stare at her. She closes the door as she walks out. Her gaze downwards.
He shakes his head, dismissing the idea.
*splash*
The warm water hits the floor. The mix of hot and cold perfect on his skin.
His hands reach for the Soap. Past the pink bottle, he grabs the biege soap. The minty smell mixed with citrus pushing away his strong musk.
The nudge in the back of his mind. He wishes it goes away.
His nose wrinkles with a frown.
It's silent. No more roaring.
As he walks in the corridor, the black, half sleeve chambray shirt showing his rippling arm muscles, she squints away.
He stops at the door. Drying his curly locks with a towel. His gaze falls on her, her legs crossed, book on lap. Closed. This time the lamp is on.
"..."
"It might rain tonight. I will go hunting at dawn"
"I'll be preparing dinner soon, then"
"Yes"
*CraCKle*
A bright light paints the room for a fleeting second, as the sky roars a second time.
And before her legs could tremble from the sound, the heavy droplets hit the roof, drenching the whole house.
*SHHHhhhhaaaaa...*
The towel drops.
*plop*
'SHIT'
The front door closes with a - *SLAM*
The muddy road glistens under the headlights as the jeep zooms through the trees.
The rain continues -
*SHHHhhhhaaaa*
(To be cont.)