Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
But as focused as Jag initially had been on the pancakes, his gaze wandered to the fridge and the pantry door behind it, because the portion cooling in the window could satisfy only one appetite, and from now on, Jag would have to hunt and scavenge for two.
A few melodic words came from the corridor, but Jag’s heart filled with glee the moment he realised Frank’s voice was accompanied by the splash of running water.
Jag had a shower he’d built himself, but while it suited him well in the warm months, he had to admit that Frank’s heated bathroom had its advantages. Today though, Jag was far too eager to get back to his fresh meat to wait around.
He snuck inside and went straight for the fridge, knowing that cheese, ham, a couple of tomatoes, and a jar of jam would compliment the pancakes. Jag could survive in the wild with ease, since he’d been prepared for it since the day he was born, but in the cushy conditions of the junkyard, there was no point in denying himself luxuries such as the small electricity generator to power a fridge in his den.
He was shoving half a loaf of bread into his backpack when it suddenly occurred to him that Frank always had medical supplies on hand, and Jag might need some for his wounded bird of paradise. Then again, the man was more of a bear than a bird. Did bears come in colors other than black or brown?
Medicine. His focus was medicine.
He faced a large drawer where his friend stored many remedies, and rummaged through it in search of the red packaging with a picture of a yellow pill. Jag had taken many of those four years back, when Frank had nursed him back to health, and knew from experience how well they alleviated pain.
“Can I help you?”
Jag froze with his hand stuck deep in the drawer. The rattling of pills and other items Frank had plenty of to avoid seeing doctors must have blocked out the creak of the opening door.
Jag groaned and glanced into Frank’s dark eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t want to bother you while you showered. My head hurts, so I wanted to get the right medicine for it, because bark tea hasn’t helped.”
The wet hairs on Frank’s thick, powerful chest glimmered in the light, and he pushed back the long black strands of his mane, approaching Jag in a towel wrapped around the hips. He always tied his hair in a braid once it was dry, and its length had to be a source of pride, yet when Jag had suggested he should adorn it with beads, Frank just laughed it off. Considering the man wore many rings and several chain necklaces, Jag didn’t understand why his proposition had been met with such resistance, but it was none of his business.
Frank’s broad nose flared when he took the plastic bottle out of Jag’s hand and looked at the symbols printed on the label. “That’s not the one you need.”
Jag stalled. “But their color—”
“This one’s for allergies,” Frank said and tossed the container back into the drawer.
Jag huffed in frustration and met the other man’s brown gaze, which stared down at him from a ridiculous height. Jag was a tall man, yet next to Frank, anyone could feel dwarfed. While Jag was an oak, Frank was a sequoia, even if not quite as thick and cuddly as the handsome man resting in the den.
“Well, they make them the same to confuse me!”
“They don’t know you exist, Jag. They just assume everyone can read. I told you I can—”
“I don’t have time to learn unnecessary skills,” Jag huffed. “Learning more about bathrooms is much more important.” His shower worked well enough for now, but after watching Frank and the others make use of the wonders of plumbing, he was starting to warm to the idea of attaching his homestead to running water. Living in the junkyard had many advantages, but it didn’t provide access to any river or stream Jag could use for his needs. There were pipes running underground, but since he was hesitant to disclose the location of his den, he remained devoid of their benefits.
Jag wondered whether the place Frank’s mother was from, New Zealand, was as covered in scrap and asphalt as the civilized areas he’d encountered on his long trek away from the only home he’d known before the junkyard. But what did it matter when it was too far to reach on foot, beyond deep waters larger than the biggest of lakes?
Frank frowned at him and nodded to Jag’s backpack when Jag tucked away the medicine. “Do I have any cheese left?”
The accusation hung in the air, but there was no point denying the obvious, so Jag pulled out the yellow block he’d taken from the fridge moments ago. Frank raised his hand in protest.