"It was wild, Aris. It had a life."
"I know," I repeat. I look him in the eye. "And it died fast. It didn't starve in a clearing. It didn't freeze to death slowly."
I take a breath. "It kept you alive. Tonight I'd like it to keep me alive too."
He holds my gaze for a long moment. Then he nods, once.
"Okay."
He puts a second steak in the pan.
He doesn't say anything triumphant. He cooks the meat, turning it carefully, letting the fat render.
When he hands me the plate, the steak is sizzling, dark on the outside and pink in the middle.
I pick up my metal spork. My hand hesitates—the fish was one thing, but this is the calf in the snow. This is the honest, brutal mercy of a clean shot.
I cut a piece. I put it in my mouth.
It tastes … wild. Gamey, which shocks me at first, but then rich and complex. It tastes like the spruce forest and the cold air, like energy.
I swallow. It settles in my stomach, warm and heavy and right.
"It's good," I say softly.
Nash is watching me, his own dinner untouched. There's a look on his face that I haven't seen before, deeper than respect, like something between us became permanent.
"Thank you," he says.
"For eating?"
"For understanding."
We eat in silence, but it's a companionable silence, the best kind.
When we're done, I feel stronger than I have in days. The protein feels different than the soy bars. It feels like it belongs here. Like I belong here.
"You were right," I say as we're cleaning up. "About the ecosystem. About the participation."
"It's a hard lesson," Nash says, scrubbing the pan with snow. "Most people go their whole lives without having to see it."
"I needed to see it." I look at the dark wall of the forest. "I think Thaddeus would have approved. He always told me he respected hunters who took what they ate. I just had to see it before I believed him."
"He loved the idea of them," Nash corrects gently. "You love the reality of them. That's different."
He stands up, drying his hands. "You're a good scientist, Aris. But you're becoming a hell of a woodsman."
"Woodswoman," I correct automatically.
He grins. "Woodswoman."
He moves to check the solar panel, and I watch him go. The resentment I felt in the beginning, the moral superiority,the judgment, is completely gone. In its place is a terrified, overwhelming clarity.
I respect this man. I trust him with my life.
I am falling in love with him.
And unlike the starving herd, or the wolf pack, or the freezing cold … this is a variable I have absolutely no idea how to manage.
