Brandon stepped forward into the clearing. He was relieved to find a place with enough light and visibility to see tens of feet in any direction. He had been careful not to make too much noise, and he had been rewarded with no signs of the beasts for several hours. In fact, the last time he saw anything indicating their presence was early that morning when he found a piece of day old scat.
He looked around, hands on hips. Yes, this would do. He could build a fire in the center of the clearing without risking a wildfire. That would be needed. The night would get cold, and the flickering light would keep any beasts away. At least as far as the trees. They wouldn't come into the light. At least, they never had before.
Brandon walked purposefully to the center of the clearing and un-shouldered the bundle of arm length branches he was carrying. Then he dropped his rucksack to the ground and tied back his long stringy hair with a leather thong. He wished he knew what to do about that. In the time before he'd had quite nice hair, and he kept it rather short. But since the beasts appeared, he hadn't had time to stop to think about what to do.
In short order he had created a fire ring out of nearby stones and had a decent fire going. He still had time before all the light was gone, so he dug the small solar panel out of his pack, and used it to put a little charge onto his e-reader. All the rest of his electronics were useless now. But the e-books were a good distraction.
After a meal of forager special stew, Brandon popped open his e-book and started reading a chapter from the Poirot story he was currently reading. He hadn't read more than two paragraphs when he heard a rustling off to his left and a little behind. He quickly looked over his shoulder and dropped his right hand to his holstered SP101. He didn't have much ammo, but this was why he carried it in the first place. Well, this and the rare opportunity to collect some protein in larger quantity than insects provided.
"Oh, sorry. I should have announced myself," the man said as he stopped in his tracks and raised his hands about shoulder height, palms forward. "No harm intended. It's just been so long since I've seen anyone else that I plumb forgot. Name's Jason."
Brandon didn't move.
"Anyway, I'm coming from a place littered with signs saying Verdant Grove, originally from Montana, but got stranded out here. I'm working my way to the coast. I saw your fire, and figured I could offer to trade for not having to build one myself tonight."
"What are you offering?" Brandon asked.
"I'll split the wood I've got with you, for starters. That'll save you considerable effort tomorrow."
"It's a good start," Brandon stated. "But, it's not worth what your asking. Yet." Brandon relaxed. "You can at least come sit down and tell me what else you'd be willing to offer."
Jason lowered his arms. His hair was cut short, and somehow neat. His clothes were in pretty good condition too. He walked slowly over to within a few feet of Brandon, but kept a respectful distance. He settled onto a larger stone that let his legs rest comfortably before he lowered his duffel bag. He opened it up and pulled out a can. "I can give you some peaches."
"Hmm. Sounds OK, but I don't have an opener," Brandon replied. "You wouldn't happen to have a spare would you?"
"Wish I did, kid. But if you rub it around like this on a flat rock," Jason moved the can in small circles on his flat palm, "You'll get it open in a few minutes."
"You've got a deal." Brandon offered his hand.
Jason, tossed the can to him. "You got a name. I prefer to know who I'm talking to."
Brandon stowed the can in his ruck. "Oh, yeah. Brandon. I don't use it much anymore," he stammered.
"Good to know you, Brandon," Jason said. He pulled a sandwich from his pack, unwrapped it, and began eating it. Between mouthfuls he said. "What ya readin'? I saw it as I entered the clearing." Jason pointed at the reader with his sandwich.
"Nothin' much," Brandon replied. "Just a mystery. I've got a handful of survival books on there, but it's kind of depressing, so I generally pick out a novel."
"I know what you mean," said Jason. "I carry the old army manuals I've found, but I hardly use them."
They talked into the night. Brandon was glad of the company. It'd been more than a week since he had last spoken to anyone.
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