22
Seven days after Heather was escorted back to the pod, it started to snow. Phylicia, Kimberly, and Heather were sitting outside the pod cooking some venison when the air became frigid and the rain that had been falling, turned to huge, blue-white flakes.
“Well, that’s just great,” Phylicia raged. “How are we supposed to get fish now?”
“We?” Heather questioned with a sideways glance. “Do you have a mouse in your pocket?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Phylicia asked glaring at Heather.
“It means,” she started hotly, “that you don’t get fish or water or wood. Kimberly and I do it. You do nothing but complain!”
Kimberly intruded: “I don’t think this is the time to be having this conversation.”
“Sure it is, Kimberly,” Phylicia responded hotly, “I want to hear whatever Heather has t
