Storyteller Michael-Scott Earle
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Sheela trying to calm Trel the fuck down.
🕑 Added 2022-04-11 23:53:55 +0000 UTC“We might be rescued, but in the meantime, we need to survive,” Sheela interrupted my apology to Trel. “If the orange creatures come as I expect, we need to be ready to defend our home. We also need food and water daily. As I said, this is easier with more helpers such as Victor.”
Trel’s glare was withering for a moment, but Sheela used her arm to guide the black-haired woman away from me. Trel’s voice became less combative at the cat-woman’s touch. “Is your skill that of a hunter, male? I might overlook your natural ignorance if you could provide food for me.”
“I’m not a hunter in the sense you think, but I do pursue animals so I can, uh, r-rescue them.” I never stuttered in my life, but Trel broke some part of my speech center whenever I looked at her.
“Pursuing animals” was a glorious description of snaring cats and dogs when they escaped from their cages back at the animal control office. We hired interns who sometimes had bigger hearts than brains, and I’d have to round up the animals they let escape. But I often got to do actual fieldwork and capture animals like Ernie the snake out in the “wilds” of suburban Los Angeles. I guess that was hunting.
