
The Camping Trip p.4
“Camping will be relaxing. Get away from work a while. Dumb bunny . . .”
From his side of the tent they were struggling with, Nick growled. “Hey, only I get to call her that.”
Between them the flexible rod meant to keep the tent’s dome shape rose, lifting the tent with it. Finnick straddled his wavering end. "Dumb. Bunny.”
“Finn, I’m warning ya . . .”
Finnick edged forward, one hand struggling to hold the flexed rod in place, the other grasping for the last hook to secure pole and tent together. “Dumb bun—”
The flexed rod between his legs slipped. Finnick had a moment to realize his position—
THWACK!
Finnick stayed still for a moment, eyes locked with Nick’s. Very slowly, he stepped away from the still-quivering pole and dropped to his knees. The sound of a dying fox reached his ears. It might have been him.