-Worlds Apart- Ruination by Amanda Thome Page B

branch that litters the forest floor. 
    “In case you were wondering, hunting isn’t your thing,” I mutter over my shoulder. “When you’re tracking and hunting you have to be quiet. Animals have a keen sense of smell and hearing. Each branch you break takes you a step further from reaching your prey.” 
    “Ok.” She says, focused on my words.
    I give her more instructions, “Look for signs of animal activity. It can be broken twigs, foot-prints, even flattened blades of grass showing where animals have bedded down. Once we find an animal trail we’ll begin construction.”
    I look over my shoulder, her eyes scour the ground. We walk through the thick forest sweeping the land in a diagonal pattern. She lifts and lowers her feet gingerly, her eyes focus on the ground in the duel task of finding an animal trail and avoiding making noise. I haven’t heard a twig break since I told her miles ago.
    “There!” She shrieks with excitement. Her eyes land on an animal trail. 
    “What kind of animal is it?”
    “Rabbit?” Her response sounds more like a question than an answer; obviously she isn’t confident. 
    “You’re right. Why did you say rabbit?” I patiently wait several minutes for her to piece together her reasoning.
    “The trail is low to the ground… The tall grass is unbroken and larger game would’ve broken the tall grass or even the twigs. Also look,” she points to the tracks, “two long prints in the back for the hind feet and two small in front. Definitely a rabbit.” She finishes with a smile.
    “Exactly right. Okay Emma, now we need to cover our scent.” She shoots me a puzzled look. “We have to coat our hands and trapping materials in mud from a creek bed.” 
    Her puzzled look turns into one of pure disbelief. I imagine the thought of voluntarily covering her skin in mud is absolutely preposterous to her, but she eventually agrees. We walk through the woods to the nearest creek. I stare at the mud, tracing my eyes around the swirling shades of brown. Squatting down I sink my hand into it, mixing the colors and lifting them to my arms. I’ve covered the right half of my arm when I feel a cold splat against my thigh. Emma’s hit me with a muddy projectile. My eyes turn to hers. She’s laughing, her dirty hands point at the matted mud she just threw at me. I reach deep into the brown, retrieving an overflowing handful. Cocking my arm back I aim and fire, throwing the projectile at her. It slaps her hard against her shoulder. This means war.
    Her next mud rocket lands square against my jaw. Wiping the mud away I fling the excess back to the ground. I pause, deciding my next move. I could end it here, maybe tell her we’re wasting time. Or I could follow my automatic response and teach her a lesson. I grin in just the wrong way, giving my choice away. She tries to run but she’s no match for my long legs. I catch-up to her, tackling her. She emerges, face and front of her body covered in the thick brown filth. For a second I’m terrified she’s going to be furious, worried she can’t handle my retaliation. She stares at me shocked and then breaks into hysterical laughter, her body shakes as she folds over, grabbing her waist as she laughs. Her slick hands slide down the front of her thighs and she nearly falls face first again. Within ten minutes we’re layered with mud, laughing uncontrollably.
    We head back to the rabbit trail, along the way I teach her which twigs to use for the snare. “Don’t use the green ones” I bend down snapping a green twig in half, exposing thick syrup. “The sap will adhere the materials together and once that happens your snare’s useless.” Emma nods as she absorbs my instructions. “We need two forked sticks, one long, one short,” I instruct.
    Within five minutes she’s back with two textbook sticks. We crouch together as I show her how to position the forked sticks along the rabbit path. It takes Emma close to an hour to mimic my