“I totally understand! I don’t blame ya dude.”
Motto nudged him with a knowing grin. “I didn’t tell anyone mine either.”
Motto stood and stretched before climbing down from the confines of the tractor. Doc Stike did the same and proceeded to dig a pipe out of his shirt pocket.
“I was gonna try to share my tracking knowledge though..”
Motto’s outlook was exceptionally cheerful. Putting his hands on his hips, the Hunter scanned the field and grunted thoughtfully. “Maybe some of the others don’t know about the woods. Heh. I could show ‘em some stuff like that.”
“I doubt anyone will be interested, Motto.” The Doc puffed away at his pipe while leaning against the tractor tire. “Think of it. You got all those folks in there all riled up for action.”
Motto was worried now. Doc was probably right. He’d made being on a team sound cool, and now he had to make sure it WAS. “W-what if we have ..uhh..”
Sweat began to drip down the Hunter’s face. Motto started to pace and mutter to himself while the bearded pipe-smoking man looked on. “It’s too soon for missions.. plus we don’t know what we’re up against. I can’t just send people into dangerous situations.. sheesh.. I don’t even know who’s who yet.. and which ones are the strongest. Hnnnn…even getting information can be dangerous. What if something happened?”
Motto stopped pacing and squeezed his eyes tight. Runa.
A thin red-headed woman flashed into the young man’s mind. She wore a tattered cloak and carried a staff. Her complexion was mildly pale and she had one gray eye while the other was green. He missed her. Runa the historian. The anthropologist. The Hunter. His girlfriend. She’d know what to do.. but she was dead.
“Doc … Lucas..I’m gonna stick with training. If they don’t like it, that’s too bad.”
“Woah, easy Motto. No one’s saying anything!” Doc chuckled.