“Our cockroach stew? Sure, you can add whatever you like, because I won’t be eating it.”
“I’m sure it will be delicious.”
“You regularly eat bugs and gross things as a bird. I don’t trust your judgment.” As Quoth picked berries and Oscar sniffed something foul under a tree, my mind whirred with the issue of how to escape Sam to get to Morrie – preferably before he tried to make me cook and eat cockroaches. I snuck up beside Heathcliff as he plucked more mushrooms from the center of a decaying tree stump, cupping my hand over his ear. “Psst, Teacher’s Pet.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“It’s true,” I grinned. “Sam is so happy to have someone to talk to about mushrooms. I think he might ask you to marry him.”
“Keep joking about it, and I’ll make you eat the biggest cockroach,” he growled.
I shuddered. “How are we going to get away from Sam the Mushroom Man? He’s going to notice if we all disappear before dinner. And itwillbe before dinner, because if I have to eat a cockroach, I will die, and then I’ll be no good to anyone.”
“Don’t worry.” Heathcliff waggled an eyebrow. “I have a plan.”
“All you have is mushrooms, Mr. Teacher’s Pet. What good are they?”
“You’ll see.” There was an evil glint in Heathcliff’s eye that reminded me too much of Morrie.
We stopped again so Sam could show us how to make simple snares and set animal traps. By now, my feet were falling off. I was certain my left toe was more blister than human. Even Oscar seemed to be dragging his feet. Just as I was about to throw down my rucksack in protest and declare I wouldn’t walk another step, Sam stopped in a clearing and declared it the perfect spot to make camp for the night.
I thought that meant it was time to relax, but no, we had to set more snares, gather wood for a fire and to make a lean-to for shelter. Oscar was amazing the whole time, leading me where I needed to go and not dashing off after the squirrel that ran overhead. Although I doubted we’d catch anything in the traps with a dog around.
Next, Sam forced me and Quoth to sit through a fire-starting lecture while Heathcliff lined up his spore-ific finds and started to divide them between two pots.
“I’m cooking,” he declared, picking off wild garlic leaves with deft fingers.
I narrowed my eyes. “But you burn toast. Remember when you tried to bake me a chocolate cake and it turned out like a hockey puck?”
“Baking is not a skill required on the moors.” Heathcliff stirred the pot. “Prepare to be amazed.”
“I’ll take care of the protein. Get these in the pan while I chop the wild garlic.” Sam placed a frying pan on the flames and handed Heathcliff the cockroaches.
As Heathcliff pried the lid off, Oscar leaped at him, pawing at his chest to find out what he was doing. “Arf, arf.”
“Aw, shite.” Heathcliff dropped the container. I jumped out of the way as cockroaches scattered across the dirt and skittered away. Only one cockroach landed in the pan, where it rolled over, its legs curling up as it succumbed to death.
I wrapped my arms around Oscar’s neck. “You’re the best, boy. I knew I could count on you.”
“Arf!”
Sam pouted. “Damn. I was really hoping to win you all over with my garlic roaches. Most people say they taste a bit like chicken.”
I bet you a million quid they don’t.“Another time.”
“You’ve still got one left. I’ll try it,” Quoth piped up, staring at the lone roach sizzling in the pan.
“You, sir, are my hero.” Sam tossed in some garlic and a few herbs he collected and happily stirred. A few minutes later he presented Quoth with a blackened roach in the middle of a pile of wilted greens. The garlic smell was delicious, but I couldn’t watch what came next. I turned away just as Quoth crunched down on the insect.
Ew. Eewwwwwww. Ew.
“Mmmm.” Quoth swallowed, and I threw up a little in my mouth. “Very garlicky. Definitely tastes a bit like chicken.”
Heathcliff lifted two steaming billies off the fire. Even as my stomach churned from Quoth’s appetizer, I had to admit the stew smelled delicious. He divided the contents of the larger between three bowls and set the smaller one down in front of Sam. “This one is just for you, our fearless leader.”
“Thanks, Heath, old chum.” Sam took a deep whiff of the pot. “This looks grand.”
Heathcliff watched as we all tucked into our food. I had this vision of him wearing a chef’s hat and nothing else, glowering at Morrie while my criminal mastermind tried to smack his arse with a spatula. It was the kind of image that made my heart patter and a deep ache pool between my legs.
