Page 99 of Valour

Arnold poked his head inside the tent. “I need someone to come hunting. Fancy it?”

Charlotte smiled and set aside her book. She’d just gotten to one of Hester’s folded-down corners and hoped the cold hid the flush in her cheeks. She still, months into sharing a tent with him, hadn’t plucked up the courage to roll over and kiss him, or tell him how she felt. “I assume you’re asking me along for company. I’m still not a great shot.”

“You’re learning. It takes time, but the company would be nice, yes.”

“Maybe I’ll finally shoot something today.” She had a feeling in her bones. Today was her day.

“Maybe!”

They walked past Septimus’s tent, and Charlotte covered her ears against the cries that came from inside. “Must they go at it so noisily, so often?”

Arnold laughed. “The captain has a lot of lost time to make up.”

“It’s been months now! I cannot imagine sex is that good, I mean—” She stopped, heat rising to her cheeks at Arnold’s knowing smirk. “Well, maybe it is then. But they’re not even married!”

“Married? That’s important to you, is it?”

Charlotte hesitated. She hadn’t thought herself prudish, but perhaps she was. “I’d always imagined one would be married in order to…you know.”

“I see.” He had a thoughtful look on his face.

“I shouldn’t judge them. I don’t, in fact. I’m just going to be quiet now.”

They hitched Marjorie, Hercules and Samson to a sled and were soon skimming along the snow, Charlotte driving, Arnold sat in front of her. The cold wind bit at her raw cheeks, stinging.

He pointed ahead. “Stop here. I shot a penguin at this spot the other day, maybe there are krill beneath the ice. There’s a break in the floe just up ahead.”

Charlotte called for the dogs to halt, and stepped from the sled, loading cartridges into the rifle and then practising at aiming, peering down the sight. Arnold walked over to the crack in the ice sheets, peering down into the sea. She laid the rifle by the sled and blew into her mittens, trying to warm her hands.

“Shit!” His voice rang out, laced with panic.

Charlotte looked up, her heart almost stopping as a leopard seal surged over the ice towards Arnold, who was skidding, his arms flailing. He fell to the ice.

She screamed and snatched up the rifle, flinging herself to the ground and propping it in her hands, shaking so hard she thought there would be no chance at all of hitting the beast.

Oh God. Arnold.

“Charlotte!” Arnold’s cry was desperate, the seal almost upon him, gnashing its jagged teeth.

She took aim.

Crack.

She squealed in horror.

She’d missed. Of course she had. She snapped the gun open, reloaded another cartridge, settled down again and took aim.

Crack.

Another miss. The seal snapped at Arnold, its curved teeth inches from his foot as he scrambled away from it.

Charlotte reloaded.

Crack.

Arnold punched the air. “You got it! Shit, it’s still alive. Again!”

She aimed. Please God, let me hit it.