Claws
“Paper-light embers floated above the blaze when Etienne stoked the logs at the pits edges with a hefty branch. He tossed the limb on top of the rest of the pile. Swirls of smoke weaved together to form a plume that climbed up into the twilight sky. He looked over at the inlet and leaned back against the log he’d dragged into camp to create some seating by the fire. Rich red and deep gold washed the marsh in color as the sun sank below the treetops.
He’d gutted the fish at the edge of the shoreline, tossing the innards and scales to his pet gators that swam in closer to snatch up the unexpected treats. Cleaned, he’d skewered the trout with solid boughs he’d cut and sharpened. Hung just above the fire, they slowly roasted. The scent of cooking fish permeated the area. Etienne glanced at the house. He hadn’t seen Sasha since he’d left in search of food. Something wasn’t right; she was too quiet. He rose from his seat and faced the shack, staring at it, looking for some sign of movement.
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