Chapter Five
Hunter woke up sweating. The sun hadn’t cleared the treetops yet, but already the jungle was steaming like a sweat lodge in the old home country. He grumbled about camp, eating the last of the previous night’s beans, drinking from the stream, and trying to decide what to do.
“Quam, it’s boring as hell here,” he muttered to himself, then cringed. “Quam, I’m starting to sound like Chekwe. Ugh.”
He looked around, trying to decide what to do. He could hoe corn. He could carry water to irrigate it. It might or might not grow, no matter what he did. He shrugged, admitting to himself that he really knew nothing about how to raise corn. On the other hand, he knew how to scout, and he knew how to hunt peccary, and he knew how to kill goblins and bounty hunters.
He turned and peered
