“A two-day fast won’t kill you,” muttered Carter.
Fen, concerned that Horace specifically might resort to cannibalism without an afternoon snack, pointed to a gnarled tree. “See those fruits? They’re called pawpaws. And see those reeds? Those are cattails. Every part is edible. What kind of survivalists are you, anyway?”
“We’re hunters,” said Bill. “Foraging is women’s work.”
Fen gave up. Maybe they deserved to be cannibalized. “There might be some swamp roaches you can hunt. Leave the bullfrogs alone, though. Remember, the Great Swamp Shark is patrolling the beaches.”
She knew a good parting line when she said it herself. Beckoning to Carter, she strolled away. They got into the boat and paddled north, leaving the kidnappers to their small island.
When they were absolutely, definitely out of sight and earshot of the kidnappers, Fen once again began to giggle. Carter laughed too. They were both covered in mud and paint, they smelled like a chemical spill in a swamp, neither of them had eaten lunch, and pawpaws were probably still on the menu. But her heart was light and she could tell that his was too. Despite the coating of grime and paintball paint, he seemed to shine like a beacon. If she hadn’t known that Norris would appear at any moment, she’d have been tempted to ask if he’d like to jump overboard, wash off, and find an island for a quickie.
“Great Swamp Shark!” Carter said, laughing.
“Man the Hunter!” gasped Fen.
And then, both at once, they said, “TicTech!”
Carter wiped at his eyes, smearing more paint across his face. “All’s well that ends well, I guess. Tell you what. Once we get out of this godforsaken swamp, let’s book a suite at the fanciest hotel in the city, have a very long bath, and spend at least one day doing nothing but having sex and eating food that doesn’t come from a swamp.”
She stuck out her filthy hand. “It’s a deal.”
They shook hands, then had some difficulty letting go. The paint got sticky as it began to dry.
“Let’s take a swim,” she suggested. “It’s not like there’s any rush now.”
Before he could reply, there was a musical trill and a flash of gold. Precious flew through the swamp, gleaming in the afternoon sun. She dove toward him, but let out a squeak and veered off at the last minute, landing on the edge of the boat instead. The dragonette eyed him disapprovingly, then raised her muzzle to the sky and let out a very loud, long trill.
“What’s with you?” Carter asked, reaching out to pet her. Precious hopped away from his hand.
“I think she doesn’t want you to get her dirty,” said Fen, grinning. “Like master, like dragonette.”
“I’m surprised Sugar doesn’t mind, then.”
“Carter, my cleavage is the only part of me that’s not covered in paint or mud.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on. Swim time!”
He froze. “Wait. I hear something.”
Precious trilled again, but Fen could hear something over her clear call. It was the distinctive putt-putt-putt of an outboard engine.
“Civilization!” Fen exclaimed in delight. “Hey! Here! Over here!” Then, remembering, she whispered, “Carter, tell Precious to get out of sight!”
“Precious, take off!” Carter ordered.
The golden dragonette launched into the air, but she didn’t hide. Instead, she looped and dove and glided, soaring and tumbling and trilling at the top of her little lungs. It would have been a wonderful sight to see if Fen couldn’t hear for herself that the boat was getting closer and closer.
“Precious!” Carter hissed. “Get out of here! Hide!”
But it was too late. Fen could see the approaching boat now, and Precious was still flittering and trilling, having the time of her life.
A man at the prow of the boat pointed straight at the dragonette, exclaiming, “Look!”
Chapter 12
Fen shot a glance at Carter,hoping he’d have a better idea to explain Precious than the absurd “flying swamp lizard” excuse he’d attempt to fob her off with. But he was staring at the approaching boat, looking utterly pole-axed. There would clearly be no help coming from that direction.
Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe if the dragonette flew away now, she could be passed off as an optical illusion—a swamp mirage.
Precious swooped down, landed beside Carter, and gave a crystal-clear trill.
