Imagine murdering a living creature, carving up their body and then preserving the flesh in cans for later consumption. Thoth wrinkled his nose in disgust as Danny plucked a can of tuna off the shelf, but didn’t comment. At least eating something which was already dead wasn’t as bad as going out and killing something else, which was what Tristan’s hunting parties did.
Once Danny and Cypress had made their selections, Thoth slipped his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it. The backpack, a practically-designed poppins bag gifted to him by his sister, was worth its weight in gold out in the forest. He could stash anything in there without it weighing him down. Life on the run from the law had taught Thoth never to pass up an opportunity to stock up on food, no matter how distasteful it was. His mouth set in a grim line, he swept all of the tins into the bag – even the meat ones. They’d be useful to someone back at camp. Zipping up the bag, he grabbed the can of peaches he’d put to one side and followed Danny and Cypress out of the larder, kicking the door shut behind him.
Danny was sat at the counter, but Cypress was hunched over her olives in the corner of the kitchen. Thoth jammed his back against the larder door, slid down onto the floor and peeled the lid off the can, pulling a little face. The peaches were anaemic and grotesquely distorted by the syrupy liquid they were preserved in, but needs must when one never knew where one’s next meal was coming from. He picked at the first couple, pulled a worse face, and bolted the rest down to minimise the taste.
Fortunately, Danny had given him something else to think about. “Jewellery is an appropriate option,” he answered, frowning at the half empty can. “Small and highly valuable, most likely located in bedrooms upstairs. Ornaments and trinkets from the drawing room would also be suitable. And anything else we might find, I suppose.”
He hadn’t really thought about what they were looking for; he’d been too intent on getting here. Scarfing down the last of the peaches, he tossed the can across the room into the bin and pulled himself to his feet, wiping his hands on his trousers. Peach syrup left a lingering (and unpleasant) taste in his mouth.
“Upstairs?” He suggested, shifting his weight between his feet while the other two finished off their own cans. “Just take anything you want on the way. Or that might be useful.”
His facial expression, a clear I don’t give a shit about any of this stuff, brooked no argument.
MASTER OF THE ORBIS . MASTER OF THE WATER ELEMENT . SON OF AURA