28 May; Biscuits

"I' ain't aa' wor oon rabbit," Davy answered, "half is Lucy's, an' ye can't hev hers. Ye can have wor half, an' tha's aa' Ah can trade. Ye knaas?"

Starling rolled his eyes. "Mebbe I does, mebbe I doesn't. Ain't makin' no half-deals. All or nothin', or git scarce."

"Ye'll le' us take it back wi' us, then?" Davy pushed. He wasn't ready to sign away their entire dinner, unless he really had to. It'd be better to get something in exchange for the rabbit, though.

"No."

"Ye," Davy said feelingly, "are a reet beggar." Trying to make the Pioneer feel guilty was not going to work, he was pretty sure, and he couldn't bluster or fast-talk into keeping the rabbit either. "Then ye'll bloody show us, an' show us fair. An' - " It didn't seem politic to call him a rotten stinking bastard. Even if he was.

So Davy just glared.

This mouthy little scamp was beginning to really annoy Starling. Such that he took a step forward and flicked a half-closed hand out toward the boy.

"Talkin' too much," he growled.

Davy jinked to one side to avoid the swipe, still glaring at Starling. Filthy rat bastard. He debated with himself the idea of snatching up his rabbit and just trying to run for it, then compared the length of his own legs with the Pioneer's.

There wasn't much hope for that.

There was little doubt that this rat could outmanoeuvre him without much trouble, so Starling made no immediate attempt to swing again. Instead, he turned away toward where the scamp had flung his rabbit.

Davy was left standing there - helpless to stop Starling, as the man laid claim to his rabbit. He shook with fury, thinking of the precious buttons he'd traded for that thing (he had liked those buttons) and of how proud he'd been of getting it. He kept his mouth shut, in order not to let the words bubbling up in him spill out.

"This'll do fine," he said, looking the rabbit over speculatively. " 'Bliged t'you."

"Ye," Davy got out, before he bit off the rest of the sentence.

The Pioneer glanced at him, lifting a bushy eyebrow. "Whassat now?"

"Ah hope," Davy said passionately, "tha' ye choke on i' an' die."

"An' if I does, it'll be on the last bone," Starling returned, sounding almost cheerful. "Now git, or I'll thrash you proper."

Davy had no other options but to go home - without his rabbit, without his dignity, and with only a small bag of grain to show for the day's work.

He really did hope that Starling choked.

That, he thought indulgently, was the easiest bounty he'd ever earned. He returned to his dip in the ground and went to work kindling a little fire. This was not such a bad night after all.