Seeing his sister playing quietly with the flowers, Fay allowed himself a moment to breathe. He sat down, pulled a small dagger from his backpack, and rested it on his lap. He never liked letting her see what he had to do—and truth be told, he wasn't sure he was any good at it.
He just wanted to keep her the way she was: innocent, sweet, and full of kindness.
Fay would handle the rest, for as long as he could. Until she was old enough to make her own choices. In this new world, that age often came far too soon.
"Stay here, alright? I'll go get our food. Don't move unless you really have to. And listen carefully for any creatures, run towards the playground and hide in the kids games if it comes to that, alright?" he instructed firmly, not turning away until she answered.
"Yes, Feyfey. I'll play with the flowers. They want food too… can we give them some of ours?" Mira looked up at him with her wide brown eyes, her gentle plea melting his resolve.
"Fine, I will bring them food also… okay? Give them the portion I set aside for them—you don't need to share your own." Fay gave the area one last scan before heading off to work.
He wasn't going to dismantle all three carcasses, but he'd harvest the best and easiest parts. The rest could feed the predators.
Approaching the first creature—the one he had stabbed earlier—he spotted the small rodent still hanging from the trap. It was alive, barely. Its tail was gone, and it looked weak, but there was fire in its eyes.
With a twinge of guilt, Fay cut the rope and nudged it away with his foot. It scurried off, wounded but alive. Fay knew it would come back, probably with others, but by then, he'd be long gone.
At least they'd have meat to scavenge.
He cut into the capybara's back first, going for the fatty tissue and thick tendons, then moved on to the legs to gather what meat he could.
Once finished, he made his way to the jungle gym where the second creature lay sprawled on the ground. It had fallen on its back, which made things harder. Fay had to push and roll it to reach the choice cuts, then harvested what he could.
He worked quickly, and efficiently. The bags he brought were already half-full. Just one more body to go—and then he and Mira could finally eat in peace.
He left the third carcass and did not bother to go find it in the abandoned house. Between the weight of the meat and his own exhaustion, trying to harvest it would be reckless. And worse, dangerous. Rodents weren't the only things that had mutated—feral dogs and cats still roamed these zones. Nearly extinct, perhaps, but far more lethal than any capybara.
Fay packed what he had, slung the bag over his shoulder, and rushed back to his sister.
"Let's go, Mira. We need to find a safe spot to make a fire. We'll eat well tonight," he said with a tired smile, then added, "Here—this is for the flowers. They don't like it cooked like we do."
He passed her a few skewered slices of raw meat, careful to keep her clean.
Mira nodded cheerfully, taking them with both hands as if she were accepting a treasure. She placed the meat near her cluster of blossoms, murmuring something only they could understand.
A few minutes later, she clapped her hands together, signaling that her task was done. Fay handed her a small towel, and once she wiped off, he gently urged her forward.
"We need to reach the river. I'll make a quick bonfire there, and we'll eat. After that, we will get cleaned up and get back to our shelter so you can sleep alright?"
Fay was glad they'd managed to find food—truly glad. Days like this were rare.
He swallowed hard, already imagining the taste of roasted meat. The river wasn't far, and though his little sister slowed their pace, he never once considered her a burden. He walked with a light step, joy in his heart.
After about twenty minutes, they reached the river's edge. The water wasn't the cleanest, but it would do. Boiling and flame would take care of anything harmful.
"Remember—no jumping in today, alright? Just a quick wipe-down with the towel after we eat," Fay reminded her gently. Mira had a habit of diving into any body of water she saw, but today they needed to head straight back to their shelter once dinner was done. No fire once they returned—just rest and preparation for whatever tomorrow would bring.
Fay got to work gathering firewood. With practiced hands and one of his salvaged lighters, he had a steady flame roaring in under five minutes. The fire crackled, the heat licking the skewered meat, and soon the scent of sizzling fat filled the air—rich, mouthwatering.
"Feyfey, I'm hungry. Is the food ready yet?" Mira sat beside him, hugging her knees, eyes fixed on the fire. She gulped visibly, unable to hide her hunger.
"Here," Fay said, handing her one of the smaller skewers. "This one's done. I made it cook faster just for you, alright? The rest will take a bit longer."
He had placed her portion directly in the heart of the flames earlier, knowing she'd ask.
While waiting for his own meat to finish, Fay watched her eat. There was something peaceful about it—something rare. The sun still peeked through the clouds, but already the sky was darkening. The light wouldn't last much longer.
They needed to be home soon. Back to the shelter—patched together from salvaged garbage containers. The trash had long been cleared out, and the containers themselves were sturdy and dry. Not perfect, but safe.
Just as he reached to pull his own skewer from the fire, he froze.
From across the river, a pair of large eyes stared directly at them.