[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/C8oz9aI.png[/img][/center]

If nothing else, Oscar was a practiced firemaker, and they soon had a small, cozy flame with which to cook their butt-steaks. The snow was easy to hammer nails into as well, and within a relatively short period of time, the camp was set up: a wall to serve as a windbreak, tents to sleep in, a fire to cook in, and an Argen to do the actual cooking with. For all his lingering pains, the Phalanx didn’t have too much trouble with cooking: Oscar had butchered the meat relatively well, and without any oils or particular spices on hand, all he had to do was either boil it in his little pot or toss it on a hot rock and watch it go. Fat dribbled from the meat, causing the fireplace to crackle and pop. Renauld warmed himself by the fires again, same position as always. They were all tired, from both the lack of sleep as well as the forced march, but now, sitting in the camp, it wasn’t all that bad.

Just a moment of reprieve, really. Maybe this time, their sleep wouldn’t be disturbed by a collapsing shelter.

Time passed meanderingly for Ettamri, Renauld, Oscar, and Argen, the four of them having nothing to do but watch the fire slowly cook the meat. Smoke rose up, obscuring the stars. Snow melted above, dripping down in cool drops. The smell of meat became more pronounced. If they had some sea salt, that would have been wonderful. If they had some spices, that’d be a dream. No conversation passed, only the grumbling of empty stomachs.

And then, by general consensus or expert opinion, they decided enough was enough and went for a bite.

The texture of the steak was definitely tougher than expected, and there was a weird stickiness that accompanied the meat. Had the fat congealed too much with the muscle? Their attempt at caveman cooking clearly wasn’t the best for this particular cut; if they had time and fuel, slow roasting the monkey butts may have been a better option there. The meat itself tasted relatively decent though. There was a gaminess and a bit of a bitter aftertaste, but the initial flavor was akin to overdone beef: not amazing or mindblowing, but at least it was edible. Savory, even. The monkey butts were never going to be finger-licking good, most of them had expected that. At least it didn’t taste like poop. At least it was fresh meat.

A figure emerged from the darkness and descended upon them. Katya, her skin aglow and flushed, patted down her wet curls with her robes (perhaps not the smartest idea in subzero temperatures), before looking at them. For a moment, there was a gleam of excitement and hunger in her eyes, before rationality set in and quickly turned to disgust.

[color=6ecff6]“Ew,”[/color] she said, scrunching up her nose, [color=6ecff6]“you’re all butt-eaters now…”[/color]

A slight pause, and then she continued nonchalantly eying the steaks still slowly cooking. [color=6ecff6]“Also, uh, you can all go take a bath now too, just saying. So I think you should all do that. Cause you all smell like poop. And, uh…Muu wants you all to go too. So yeah.”[/color]

A firm nod. That was the story she was running with.

[color=6ecff6]“Yeah!”[/color]