I take a moment to explain how to identify the right kind of wood, dead branches that aren’t too rotted, and Elliot nods along. When we head into the forest, we wander side by side.
“You really do know a lot about this stuff,” he says. “I wouldn’t have known to make three fires.”
“It’s what I do for fun,” I tell him as I see a flash of blue and black through the trees, waterfowl passing by with a loud flutter.
“Survive the elements?”
“Naturalism. I like to learn about ecosystems. Look at wildlife. It’s how I occupy my free time. And since I’m a safety-minded person, I’ve picked up some relevant skills on the way.”
Elliot breaks a branch in half before tucking two pieces under his arm. “Sounds like a fun hobby.”
As we gather sticks, I remind myself to play nice and make conversation.
“What about you?” I ask. “I don’t know what you do for fun or for work.”
Elliot follows me up a bend. “I make art on commission for people off the internet.”
“Oh. That’s entrepreneurial. Good for you. What kind of art?”
“Erotic. Illustrative scenes with kink content, usually featuring pop culture figures and archetypes. I’ve got my own style, but it always reflects the source material.”
I blink and turn back to him. “Pardon?”
Elliot shifts the branches in his arms. “Like a client might have a kink for, say, giant-sized wasp women stinging men in suits. Or some clients want regular variations on similar content. A superhero in peril with a boner in his costume, go.”
I tilt my head to the side, trying to figure out if he’s pranking me. “Seriously?”
He nods before going back to work. “I always knew I wanted to be an artist. The specific career I sort of stumbled into.” He reaches toward his side like he’s going to grab a phone, and his face falls. “Shit. Right. Anyway. I can show you when we’re back, if you want.”
I’m trying to understand what I think about everything he just said. I’m not sure if I’m squirming because of the specific examples he gave, which make me want to giggle although I’m sure that’s rude, or if I’m just thinking about Elliot and curious if he’s into such things himself. Which isn’t my business, of course.
I break a stick. “That’s very unusual, Elliot,” I finally offer, and he laughs.
“It is,” he agrees, but looks a little queasy.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Before I can answer, he drops his sticks. “I’ve just…” He hobble-runs toward the woods. “Sorry! It’s my stomach!”
“I… Uh…” I feel like I should go after and help him, but quickly realize how bad of an idea that is. Instead, I gather up kindling, busying myself until he returns a few minutes later.
“Could those mushrooms be toxic?” he asks. “Because something is coming out of me, and it’s not normal.”
“They’re not poisonous, although you could have an allergy,” I tell him. “Perhaps the dirty water you drank in the boat gave you some issues?”
He frowns, not liking that, but not arguing either.
“I might need to move a little slow,” he says and turns his eyes up to the darkening sky. “How much wood do we need for this?”
“We’ve already made a good start. Let’s drop this off at a high spot. We have some time before dark. On the way, we can check for cattails. Making shoes would definitely speed us up.”
The risk of a night on the island gives me the extra motivation I need. I rise to my feet, nervous energy pumpingas my stomach aches with hunger. Elliot steadies himself before getting up, too.
“Thank god you’re a wilderness man on the side,” he says. “Otherwise, an illustrator and an accountant would make a terrible survival team.”
I laugh. I’m not sure why, but the phrasewilderness manmakes me feel funny. Capable, like he just gave me a compliment. Although that tingly feeling only goes over me for a moment before the grim reality of our circumstances returns, grounding me.
The world tilts. I realize I’m dizzy, and my head is aching again. I put my hands on my knees until I’m steady.
“All good?” Elliot asks, rubbing his belly.
I give him a thumbs-up and stand. “Let’s do this.”
