Chapter 6

“Perfect timing,” Frye said without glancing up. “Take one of my canteens and fill up my tea pot. It’s over there.”

Markle went to the dancer’s bag and spied a small tin teapot strapped to the side with twine. He untied it and brought it back to the fire. He poured a small amount of water inside and handed it over.

“Where’s the tea?” Frye demanded. “Can’t you do anything, kid?”

“You didn’t ask for tea, just the pot,” Markle replied, already rising and heading back toward the pack. “Where’s it at?”

“Dig toward the bottom.”

While Markle went through the dancer’s belongings—something he was surprised Frye allowed and insisted on—Frye himself was seeing to breakfast. He had a few strips of dried beef skewered on a pointed stick resting above the flames. The smell wafted to Markle and his stomach rumbled in anticipation.