***

The outhouse was located quite a distance from our hut, on a piece of dry land. Kowi explained as we walked.

“We needed to keep it away from our water sources and the wildlife that we hunt that use the waterways. We’ll move this one when it’s full. The whole structure can be taken down and set up somewhere else.”

I went inside and saw that it was essentially a hole in the ground with a bench over it. The bench seat had a circle cut out of it in the middle for resting a person’s butt. The whole setup was surrounded by flimsy walls. The bench could be lifted up for guys to pee, which I sincerely hoped they did since there was no such thing as toilet paper here to clean it with. There was a stack of homemade paper nearby that looked really scratchy, but I was more than a little excited about being able to use something that wasn’t leaves for a change.

As soon as I finished my business, I found out firsthand that it was quite rough, but it was better than the alternative. I also noticed that the inside of the outhouse didn’t smell much better than a construction site toilet, but it did the trick. I was going to have to figure out a way to not need to go during the night, though. It was too far of a trek otherwise, and the mosquitoes would have me in lumps from head to toe before I got there and back, and my butt wouldn’t be spared, either. I couldn’t imagine the special torture a bunch of skeeter bites on the hind end would be.

Kowi walked me back to the hut, and I took note of the path we took, feeling confident I could find it again on my own. By the time we reached our destination, the sun was fully above the horizon, blazing with its warmth.

Peter and Bodo were awake, busy eating breakfast - the cold remnants of last night’s dinner. I was happy to have them, since it beat starchy, plain noodles any day. I picked up my wood platter and stood in the living room of my hut, eating while I talked.

“So what time do you want to start?” I asked.

“I’ll have your first group come get you in about an hour. Do you care who’s in it?”

“No. Whoever. Whatever. Doesn’t matter.” I was trying to talk around a lump of dry bread, and it wasn’t pretty.

“I’ll leave you to your food, then,” he said, smiling slightly. He walked away through the trees, going I don’t know where, since we hadn’t yet seen where the Miccosukee live.

“What about the meetings?!” I yelled out after him. Supposedly the tribes had to work out the mechanics of coming together as one nation - united against the outside world.

“We’ll come get you!” he responded.

I shrugged. It’s not like I had plans. Might as well do the beck-and-call thing for a while. It’ll keep my mind off of other less pleasant thoughts. Like canners keeping kids locked up in a room, removing limbs to eat when they got hungry.

Bodo came out of the other connected hut with a platter in his hand, distracting me from my morbid thoughts. I picked up a cup with water in it that had been put on a shelf by our food preparers and pretended to drink, hiding my lower face with it.

I had no idea why I did it. Probably because I was feeling nervous all of a sudden. He’d kissed me with almost no warning last night, and it had sent my heart racing. But Bodo was always cracking jokes and messing around, so I had no idea how serious that kiss was for him. If I let it, it could feel very serious to me, but I didn’t want to assume anything was mutual and get my feelings hurt. This world had become an incredibly small place, and a bad breakup could mean someone having to leave the only home we had.

“Goodt morningk,” he said, no expression on his face. His German accent was stronger right now, like it was sometimes when he first woke up.

His lack of expression made my heart spasm uncomfortably. “Morning.” I put the glass back on the shelf. If I kept hiding behind it, it was going to start being obvious, and it was ridiculous that a girl like me would be so nervous over a guy. It was starting to tick me off.

“Didt you sleep well?” he asked, picking up a piece of meat and biting into it, chewing slowly as he watched my face.

“Yes. Except for the mosquitoes, I slept fine, thanks. How ‘bout you?”

“Very nice. I think maybe I hadt a goodt sleeping magic.”

Was he talking about the kiss? “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

He winked at me and smiled a little, making my heart suffer a different kind of spasm. I turned away so he wouldn’t see me smile back, pretending to be busy with arranging food for Peter.

Peter was awake, lying in his bed and staring up at the roof of branches and palm fronds overhead. Buster hadn’t left Peter’s side, but he’d flipped over and his eyes were open, following my every move. It was comical the way his eyebrows lifted, one at a time, as his eyes rolled around.

Walking over and getting closer to them, I noticed something greenish on Buster’s forehead. It looked like a small marble or plant seed pod or something, stuck to what little fur he had left after Peter’s haircut. I bent down to get a closer look, setting Peter’s plate down on the ground next to me.

“Come here, Buster, let me see your head. What did you get in your fur?” I tried to pull it off but almost immediately realized it wasn’t plant matter fixed to his forehead. “Oh, sick. You have a humongous tick on your head, you dumb dog.”

Peter instantly sat up, pushing Buster none-too-gently away from his side. “Ew, are you serious?!” He reached over quickly and grabbed his food platter, holding it close to his chest and staring at Buster with suspicion.

I smiled. It was nice seeing Peter experiencing an emotion other than utter despair for a change. Last night had been really hard on him, telling the tribes about the murder of his little sister by the canners in Sanford. And then seeing Celia, showing up in a bloody canoe with half her arm taken off by cannibals, begging us to kill her. It had been a seriously emotional evening for all of us, but for him especially.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” I said to him. “How’d you sleep?”

“Not good. The mosquitoes were beyond annoying and I had horrible nightmares.” He was pouting.

Also a good sign.

“Is that seriously a tick on his head?” Peter was disgusted.

“Yes. And I’m guessing he has more than this one, too. Ticks are all over the place here.”

Peter put his platter back on the ground hurriedly and held out his arms, inspecting them closely. Then he reached down and pulled up his pant legs, looking for any offending creatures that might be hiding underneath. Finding none, he sighed in relief. “Well, no ticks better get on me, that’s all I have to say.”

I took the platter off the ground and handed it to him. “Here. Eat.” Peter was way too skinny; he looked like a bag of bones. He probably weighed no more than eighty-five pounds, max.

I pulled Buster into my lap and rid him of the forehead tick and the four others he had on his face and behind his ears. It was a somewhat bloody job, making sure the insects’ heads were totally out of his skin, but Buster didn’t seem to mind.

“I hope the students I have today are half as tough as you, Buster. It’ll make my job a lot easier.”

“Students?” asked Peter, swallowing a bite of some root vegetable I’d seen him choose delicately from his plate a second earlier.

“Yeah. Krav maga lessons start today. I’m teaching three sessions a day.”

“What’s the schedule?”

“I have no idea.”

“Maybe I could help with that,” he offered.

Peter was totally anal about organization, and I knew putting things in their places and in perfect order made him feel better about his world, so I jumped on his suggestion.

“I hope so. I need someone to organize the classes with all the Miccosukee and Creek and also with you guys. Kowi told me how many girls and guys they have here, but I can’t remember the number. Maybe you could get everyone’s names and put them into groups.”

The light came back to Peter’s face. “Definitely. Are you going to just mix it up, or keep people separate?”

“I want to keep the girls and guys separate for now. I know some girls act stupid when guys are watching, so …”

“Okay, so you want privacy in the lessons. I can help with that.”

I smiled, picturing my diminutive friend standing guard and forcing an indian guy twice his size to go away. He could probably do it if he used nagging and scolding as his weapons. He’s a skilled ninja-level user of both.

“Good,” I said. “I was also wondering about whether I should mix it up, with some Creek and some Miccosukee in the same sessions. I’m not sure.”

“Why would you keep them separate?”

I shrugged. “Build up their competitive spirit?”

“Aren’t you trying to help them not be so competitive with each other?”

“Yeah. That’s why I wasn’t sure about what to do.”

“I haff an idea,” said Bodo, moving over to join us, taking a seat on my right. Buster ran over and begged in front of him, having exhausted all his scrap sourcing from us.

Bodo handed him a chunk of bread to gnaw on. “What about dis idea - you can mix it up, put da both tribes in itch group. Den inside da group make teams. Den later you can do competitions between dem. Dey will haff to work togedder to make a good success. No…” he shook his head, momentarily lost, “…to succeed. Yes, dat’s bedder. To succeed. To win.”

I smiled. It was impossible not to. He had such a way with words.

“I like that idea,” I said. And I really did. I had a strong feeling that these kids would go nuts for the fights. Not just to prove who was the strongest, but also to help pass the time. Every competition includes hours, days, and weeks of intense training and practice. Without television, school, phones, internet, computers, or any of the old-fashioned conveniences, we had a lot of dead time on our hands, so this could be perfect.

“Me too. This could be veeerry interesting,” said Peter.

I could see his brain going a hundred miles-an-hour. He probably already had a spreadsheet planned in his head. Too bad computers were totally useless these days.

“Who are you gonna fight, Peter?” asked Bodo. “Da dog? ‘Causs if dat’s the plan, you better start practicing now. I think he can take you down.”

Peter scowled at him. “Who are you going to fight, Bodo? Bryn? Better plan on losing if that’s the case.”

“Oh, no way. Not me. She’ss too scary. I prefer to fight someone more easy. Like dat Trip guy.”

I snorted. “You know I love you, Bodo, but Trip would kill you, even with no training.”

“Is dat true? You really luff me?” His expression was too falsely innocent to be serious. I shoved him over, just for messing with me.

“Shut up, you idiot.”

Bodo looked at Peter. “You heardt her say it. She luffs me.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head. She loves Buster, too, and he’s a bald, tick-covered, doodle machine.”

“It’s true,” I said nodding, trying to stay serious. “I love him so much that I just picked a pile of those ticks off his face. Without barfing.”

“Oh, dat hurts. You luff da dog more dan me.”

I shrugged. “What can I say. He’s pretty cute.” I knew Bodo thought he was pretty cute too, so it was fun to make him feel like he was in competition with a naked poodle.

Bodo frowned. Then a gleam came into his eye as he looked at Peter. “Guess what I’m gonna do today,” he said.

“What?” asked Peter, sounding very bored as he picked through his food.

“I’m gonna doodle on da house.”

Peter’s head shot up. “Do not even go there, Bodo. I’m serious.”