““a’ these?” I asked, because I knew I couldn’t do it myself. Penelope smiled and took the dead rabbit without blinking. Other hand asked for my knife. “Maybe you should collect some wood,” she said, soft enough that it didn’t sound like an order but firm enough that I knew she meant it. She went off by the fire while I dragged back a few thick branches what had fallen in the storm. I tended the flames and watched her working. Gentle and soft she went at that rabbit like it was a teddy bear she didn’t want to rip. Prized off the skin ’stead a’ pulling it. Nicked at the fur ’round the feet ’stead a’ chopping them off. I couldn’t watch. “Stop it, stop it,” I said, shaking my head. “It ain’t a baby””
