Foster father

02

The child’s eyes were full of fear, staring at him in horror, as if looking at a ghost.

Carter Vaughn frowned, unconsciously touching his face. He remembered that two days ago, he had been hit by a gunstock on the side of his eyebrow. Half of his face was probably swollen, and covered in blood, so his appearance was probably quite frightening.

Carter looked carefully at the child’s face, which was very delicate and beautiful. The child’s eyes were particularly large, watery, but his cheeks were sunken, indicating that he had suffered quite a lot. He instinctively felt that this child wasn't a local; he didn't have any Burmese features, and his skin was pale and delicate, looking like he had been well cared for before. He asked again, “Can you understand Vietnamese?”

Seeing that the child was still dazed, Carter grew a little impatient.

The child opened his mouth, hoarsely saying, “Save... save me... save me...” Then suddenly, he clung to Carter’s leg and started crying loudly, “Mom—Dad—I’m scared—”

Carter Vaughn felt his ears ringing. He could tell the child had probably gone without food for several days, so how could he still have the strength to cry this loud? He growled, “Shut up!”

This was the first time the child had seen a human in days, and his excitement couldn’t be contained. No matter how much Carter yelled, he just cried louder, like clinging to a lifeline.

Carter was worried that the child’s loud crying would attract dangerous creatures, so he roughly grabbed the child’s hair and shoved his head underwater.

The child swallowed several mouthfuls of water before Carter finally pulled him up, glaring at him. “Try crying again.”

The child was terrified, no longer daring to make a sound.

Carter held him under his arm and dragged him onto the shore, then tossed him onto the dry grass. He looked at the naked child, crouching down to scrutinize him carefully.

The child looked at him fearfully.

Carter asked, “How old are you?”

The child trembled and said, “Five... years old.”

“Why are you here?”

As soon as this question was asked, the child’s tears started flowing. “The plane... the plane, it crashed.”

Oh? A plane crash? Carter raised an eyebrow, thinking this child was either lucky or unlucky. He survived the crash, but ended up alone in the wilderness.

Carter, feeling exhausted, slumped onto the ground, gasping for air. Then he suddenly remembered something and asked, “What about the wolves?”

Mentioning the wolves made the child even more frightened, his tear-filled eyes said, “They want to eat me.”

“Of course, you’re just a walking can of food for them, it’s no surprise they want to eat you, but why did all the wolves die?”

The child’s eyes seemed confused. He thought for a long time, then shook his head. “I don’t know, I was scared. They wanted to eat me, but I don’t remember anything.”

Carter had hoped to get some answers from him, but ended up even more confused.

These wolves were supposed to attack the child, but they didn’t get him. Instead, he was eaten by some other wild animal? How did he survive their attack?

Carter found it increasingly puzzling. The only possible explanation was that the child killed the wolves, but that explanation was even more absurd.

He didn’t feel like thinking about it anymore; his stomach was growling, and eating was the priority now.

He pulled a knife out of his boot and stood up.

The child shrank back in fear.

Carter ignored him and headed back to cut some wolf meat.

Unexpectedly, the child, who had been terrified of him, suddenly stood up and followed closely behind him.

Carter glanced back at him.

The child whispered, “Don’t leave me.”

Carter sneered, “I have no obligation to take care of you. If you can keep up, then follow.” He said, then walked into the bushes.

After a moment’s hesitation, the child followed him.

The sight of the three dead wolves made the child’s face turn pale. He instinctively grabbed Carter’s pants.

Carter kicked him away, “Don’t be in the way.” He squatted down, driving the knife into the wolf’s hip, searching for the spot where the bone and flesh connected to cut the meat.

The child screamed in fear, stepping back several steps.

Carter yanked the wolf’s leg, shaking the knife to forcefully cut it off. After a moment, he tossed it to the child’s feet. “Take it.”

The child screamed again and almost fell to the ground.

Carter glanced at him, “Do you want to starve to death? If not, take it.” Then he went back to cutting another leg.

He managed to remove four legs from the wolves and felt that this was enough to last him for three to five days. He finally stopped to catch his breath.

Turning around, he saw the child still standing there, not moving, unsure of what to do.

Carter picked up the three wolf legs and walked over to the child, looking down at him. “This wolf leg on the ground is your food for the next meal. If you don’t take it, you’ll starve to death. I won’t share my food with you.”

The child looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, full of pleading and unease.

Carter no longer paid attention to him and walked away with the wolf legs.

The child stared at the bloodied leg on the ground, his stomach turning. His small fists clenched and relaxed over and over again. Eventually, he crouched down, gently touching it.

The coarse, hard fur and sticky blood felt like burning coals, and the child quickly pulled his hand back, trembling all over.

Unable to stop himself, he glanced back, hoping that Carter would have a change of heart and help him, but saw that Carter was already walking away without a second glance.

The child turned away in despair, tears filling his eyes. Clenching his teeth, he made up his mind and picked up the bloody wolf leg, crying as he ran after Carter.

He knew that, no matter how fierce and scary Carter was, he was the only other human here. Instinctively, he wanted to stay close to him.

Carter, nearly starving to the point of dizziness, longed to eat the wolf legs right away. But he still had some sense left. When he cut off the legs, he noticed that the wound had already gathered a lot of maggots and was starting to rot. Not only would raw meat be hard to eat, but if it infected him with bacteria, death would be inevitable.

He laid the matches and matchbox out in the sun to dry.

The child sat not far away, hugging his knees, curled up into a ball, staring at Carter with wide, shiny eyes.

Carter was annoyed by his stare and glanced at him coldly.

The child shuddered and quickly turned his eyes away.

Carter began preparing the wolf legs and asked, “What’s your name?”

The child hesitated, then replied, “Oliver.”

“Where are you from?”

“Hanoi.”

“Are your parents dead?”

Oliver suddenly became agitated, clenching his tiny fists and shouting angrily, “Your parents are dead!”

Carter glanced at him, and the look alone made the child shiver in fear.

“My parents are indeed dead.” Carter waved the bloody wolf skin aside and brushed the hair from his forehead. “I’m asking if your parents were on the plane.”

The child shook his head. “Only me and the pilot uncle were on the plane.”

Carter raised an eyebrow. Looks like the child came from a wealthy family, having his own private plane. No wonder he looked so delicate.

After peeling the wolf skin off, Carter cut the meat into thin slices to cook, then tossed the knife to the child.

The child looked at the blood-stained knife and didn’t dare to touch it.

It was silent in the area. Carter, not one to waste words, reluctantly gave him a rare piece of advice, “Peel the wolf skin, cut the meat into slices, and if you’re not eating it now, wrap it in leaves to preserve it. Otherwise, you’ll have to figure out how to get your next meal.”

Oliver cried softly and shook his head, “I’m scared.”

Carter chuckled coldly, “Then starve.” To a mercenary like him, who had killed without a second thought, there was no concept of human decency. To him, asking a five-year-old to kill a wolf was absurd, but having him prepare a wolf leg was nothing difficult. There was no reason to rely on anyone else, and Carter had no reason to help him.

Oliver hugged his knees and cried softly, feeling utterly helpless.

Carter got up and gathered some easily burnable leaves, arranged them with stones, and carefully dried out the matches and matchbox in the sun before starting a fire.

Once the fire was going, Carter used branches to skewer the meat slices and roast them.

Since the branches couldn’t withstand the heat, Carter had to hold them at a distance from the flames. His arm was injured, and his other arm was too weak from hunger to hold the meat up for long, so he quickly became exhausted.

He glanced at the child, still curled up and crying softly, then called, “Kid.”

Oliver looked up at him with swollen, red eyes.

Carter ordered, “Come here.”

Oliver hesitated, then cautiously walked over.

Carter handed him the branch with meat on it, “Hold it, don’t let the flame touch.”

The child froze for a moment, then realized what Carter wanted. He didn’t reach out for it immediately but said, “I’ll help you roast it if you help me fix that wolf leg.”

Carter squinted at him, surprised that the little brat was trying to make a deal.

Oliver, looking into his eyes, took a cautious step back. He bit his lip and watched Carter carefully.

Carter burst out laughing. “Not bad, I’ll accept your offer.”

He stood up, grabbed the knife and the wolf leg, and said, “Be patient with the roasting. You won’t eat until I’m full.”