The One Who Won't Be Abandoned - Chapter 14

“He didn’t even eat breakfast… Is he going through puberty or something?”

The blueberries I had set aside for breakfast remained untouched. Sure, there were plenty of berries to eat in the forest, but knowing Andre, he probably hadn’t eaten anything out of sheer stubbornness. It made me anxious. He was at an age where proper nutrition was critical, or he wouldn’t grow properly. That thought genuinely worried me.

“Dark Cloud, could you go find Andre and tell him to come back to the cabin to eat something? Please?”

But, being a rabbit and not understanding human speech, Dark Cloud simply twitched his ears adorably, showing no sign of heading into the forest.

“Sigh…”

I let out another heavy sigh, frustration bubbling up inside me.

I lifted my head and looked around. The cabin was surrounded by dense forest. Somewhere in that vast expanse, Andre was likely brooding, caught in the throes of early adolescence. My mind spiraled with worry—what if he ran into a bear or a wild boar?

My head was filled with nothing but thoughts of Andre. Those worries bubbled up like little beads, rising one by one until they eventually boiled over, hot and furious.

“Ugh! This is so annoying!”

“Are you still mad?”

“Ahhh!”

A sudden voice from behind startled me so much that I toppled forward from my crouched position. If I hadn’t caught myself with my hands, I might have embarrassingly planted my face in the dirt. Turning around as I straightened up, I saw Andre standing awkwardly, fidgeting as he looked down at me.

“About yesterday… I said something stupid. I’m sorry,” he said hesitantly.

“Well, yeah, you did say some strange things…”

Standing up, I brushed the dirt off my hands and forced a small, awkward smile. To avoid looking directly at him, I focused on my hands, pretending they needed extra attention. It felt a little awkward meeting his gaze.

“I’ll be more careful not to say things like that again,” Andre said seriously.

“Ah, okay.”

“You’ll forgive me, right?”

“Yes. I’m sorry for yelling at you too.”

Riding on Andre’s apology, I offered my own. Honestly, I had felt pretty awful about being so harsh with him the day before.

“This is my peace offering,” Andre said, pulling out something he’d been hiding behind his back—a large wild chicken. The lifeless bird dangled limply from his hand, swaying with his movements.

“What is this? Did you catch a chicken? A wild one?”

“Yeah, I got lucky. Its leg was broken, so it was easy to catch,” he explained, showing me the bird’s bent and likely fractured left leg.

“Wow… You’re seriously so lucky,” I said, genuinely impressed.

Ever since that time a deer stumbled into one of his randomly placed traps, I’d known Andre was the kind of person who could survive just about anywhere. His uncanny luck was nothing short of extraordinary.

“Go inside and rest—or play with Dark Cloud if you want. I’ll pluck the feathers,” Andre said matter-of-factly.

“Wow… Is there anything you can’t do, Andre?”

The tension that had stiffened his face earlier seemed to melt away at my praise, and he gave a small, sheepish smile. Seeing that, I couldn’t help but smile back. I was immensely grateful that he offered to pluck the chicken—it saved me from dealing with the messy task.

“Then I’ll make sure to have the fire ready when it’s time,” I said.

“Okay,” he replied, heading toward the stream with the chicken in hand.

I waved after him, watching his back as he walked away, before letting out a sigh of relief and lowering my hand.

I couldn’t express how thankful I was that Andre had been the one to apologize first. I’d been so overwhelmed at the thought of reconciling that I’d nearly cried earlier. I thought he might have been going through puberty, but perhaps he was just being difficult.

I felt a sense of joy that everything had worked out so smoothly. I was confident Andre wouldn’t bring up talk of oaths, life-long companionship, or anything so dramatic again. It was a huge relief.

“Alright. Time to gather some branches,” I said to myself.

The firewood we’d stacked like a mountain outside the cabin was already halfway gone. We had been burning through it without much thought, so now I made a habit of collecting dry branches to mix in with the firewood. It helped stretch the supply.

“Good, good. Everything’s looking good.”

It was hard to believe I’d been feeling so down earlier—my mood had completely turned around, and I couldn’t stop smiling, even to the point where my cheeks began to ache.

We decided to roast the chicken whole, just like we had done with the venison last time. Andre returned with the chicken fully cleaned and skewered on a sturdy wooden spit he had made.

Next to the campfire stood a support structure Andre had skillfully crafted from sturdy branches. He set the spit on the frame, securing the chicken above the fire.

The chicken had just been placed over the flames, so it was far too soon for any savory aroma to fill the air. Yet, my mouth was already watering at the mere sight of it. It had been so long since I’d had meat that I couldn’t take my eyes off the chicken.

Swallowing the saliva pooling in my mouth, I spoke up.

“I heard wild chickens are really skittish and hard to catch…”

“I was lucky,” Andre replied.

“Luck is a skill too. You’re amazing,” I said sincerely.

Andre double-checked the support to make sure it could hold the weight of the large chicken, then disappeared into the cabin. Even as he left, I kept my eyes glued to the chicken, which was just beginning to sizzle as its skin started to cook.

“Get up for a second,” Andre said as he returned, holding a small scrap of fabric—the leftover piece of a bedsheet he’d used to make a headscarf.

Neatly folding the fabric, Andre placed it on the rock I had been sitting on, turning it into a makeshift cushion.

“You’re so thoughtful,” I said with a smile, expressing my gratitude.

As soon as I sat down again, my eyes were immediately drawn back to the chicken. Sitting down next to me, Andre commented,

“It’s going to take a while to cook properly.”

“I know.”

“You do realize you’re staring at it like you’re ready to pounce any second, right?”

“Cough, cough.”

Embarrassed at being called out for my unladylike behavior, I cleared my throat awkwardly. Still, as the delicious aroma of roasting chicken began to fill the air, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

“I’ll never let you go hungry,” Andre said suddenly, slipping back into his usual overly earnest tone.

I couldn’t help but let out a small, exasperated laugh.

“If we stay here until winter, we might go a few days without food,” I replied, trying to bring some realism to his lofty promise.

“We won’t be here that long,” Andre said firmly.

“Do you really want to leave this place? Do you even have a plan?”

“As long as I’m certain you won’t abandon me, I’m ready to leave at any time. We’ll figure out the plan when we get there.”

I sighed internally, realizing that last night’s argument had been completely pointless. Andre hadn’t changed at all; he was still as clingy and overwhelming as ever.

“Let’s just focus on eating the chicken first,” I said, steering the conversation away before it could spiral any further.

Though I still felt the lingering awkwardness from our unresolved tension, I prioritized the enticing chicken in front of me.

Thankfully, Andre chose to stay quiet, turning his attention to the chicken as well. For now, at least, the conversation was tabled.

* * *

I never realized chicken could be this delicious. It was easily ten times better than the venison we’d had last time. With a chicken leg in hand, I tore into the meat ravenously, barely pausing for breath. Beside me, Andre used the headscarf he’d worn on our trip to the village to wipe the corners of my mouth every now and then, but I was so absorbed in eating that I barely noticed.

“This is amazing!” I exclaimed.

“Slow down, or you’re going to choke,” Andre said, setting his own chicken leg down on a wooden plate before heading into the cabin. When he returned, he was holding a wooden cup filled with water.

“Here,” he said, offering it to me.

I shook my head, my mouth still stuffed with chicken, but Andre wouldn’t take no for an answer. He kept insisting, holding the cup out closer.

“Drink. You’ll choke,” he urged.

And just as he finished speaking, I felt the chunk of chicken I hadn’t properly chewed lodge itself in my throat. It was like his words had summoned the exact situation he was warning about. Gasping, I snatched the cup from him and gulped down the water. The sensation of the stuck chicken sliding down my throat was vivid, almost painful.

“Ugh… I could’ve died if I’d been unlucky,” I said, sighing with relief.

“Chew your food properly next time,” Andre said, watching me closely. Only after making sure I was taking small, deliberate bites did he pick his own chicken leg back up.

The way he carefully looked after me reminded me of how a father might dote on his daughter.

“Pfft.”

I couldn’t help but burst into laughter as I imagined a grown-up Andre treating a daughter who resembled him in the same gentle way. I could feel his eyes on me.

“You’d make a great dad someday, you know,” I said, grinning at him. “You’re thoughtful, meticulous, and you can even catch food like this.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” I affirmed.

He smiled, clearly pleased with the compliment. It was nice to see Andre like this, without all the weight of his usual intense remarks. When he wasn’t making me uncomfortable, our conversations could actually be quite warm and enjoyable.

“I’d like for you…” he began, his voice dropping slightly, “to see for yourself, right by my side, just how good of a father I’ll be someday.”

His tone carried such an unspoken longing that it felt heavy. Once again, that familiar burden settled over me, pressing down like a weight on my shoulders. I could only think, Why does every conversation end up like this? It was suffocating.

“Haha…”

Awkwardly laughing it off, I turned my attention back to the chicken and took another bite. I was already full, but eating gave me an excuse to avoid responding.

I sneaked a glance at Andre, who was staring down at his chicken leg with a faint smile, lost in thought. His expression was so tender that anyone passing by might think he was in love with it.

I found myself wondering what on earth he was thinking about. Still, I refrained from asking. I knew all too well that if I brought it up, the conversation would likely take another uncomfortable turn.

He knew I disliked these kinds of discussions—he had to know. Yet he kept steering our talks in that direction, ignoring my feelings. For a moment, I felt a flicker of resentment toward him for it.

* * *