The only fresh meat they'd had of late was a fat, old porcupine that had made the mistake of taking a leisurely stroll on a trail where Michele and Shawn were lurking. The slow-moving creature never had a chance. They'd stunned him with a hail of rocks, then stuck him with one of their spears, finally moving in for the kill, bashing its skull with a heavy length of wood. By the time they dragged the animal back to camp, it was so battered that if not for a few remaining quills here and there, no one would have known what it was.
Pity that, porcupine quills make excellent fish gorge hooks.
