Dirt Soup

Henry Butler sat next to the fire.  He had carefully caught, skinned, and cleaned a small fish.  He puts a long stick through the fish and then carves two more stick with a y shape at the top.  Into the Y he puts the long pole with the fish.  He occasionally turns the stick slowly, ever so slowly to evenly cook the fish over the small flames but mostly red-hot coals.

Angela feels her mouth water.  She thinks to herself.  "Really, really?  Is he going to give me some of that fish?  I'm so hungry.  How I would love to feel the texture of the cooked fish in my mouth, to smell it, and most of all to taste each bite."

Then Angela saw Henry pull out the big pot and her heart sank.  "This fish is only big enough for me.  So, if you want something to eat you will have to forage.  Dirt soup is good enough for you.  Remember that if the earth is good enough for a lowly earth worm, it's good enough for you.  So, stones, dirt, leaves, any thing that you can find to add to the water you will put in this pot.  That will be your dinner."

Angela walked about 1/4 of a mile to a small creek.  There she fills the pot.  Looking around her are some late blackberries growing on a bush.  She picks each and every one very carefully and eats them.  They taste of the woods that they grow in.  The wild sweetness makes her far too empty stomach gurgle and churn.  "I ain't going to throw up, I AIN'T."  She tries to convince herself.

Now she looks about desperately to find something, anything that she can add to her pot that so far is more about warm water with dirt than soup.  She adds the leaves of the wild blackberries.  She has learned the hard way to be careful with the leaves that she adds.  Once she added poison ivy.  She itched for weeks!

She's excited when she finds a small patch of potatoes.  Imagining the poor farmer that had once lived there she thanks him in her mind.  She also finds a tiny patch of little green onions.  These also fly into the pot.

Now her body craves protein.  She hates the very idea of ending life, even life as lowly as a fish or a squirrel.  Yet she is desperate.  Henry rarely shares his food with her.  It has been days since she has eaten any real protein.  So she sits quietly by the side of the creek and waits.  Finally a tiny fish swims by.

With the speed that desperate adrenaline fuels Angela grabs the fish and flings him out of the water.  She looks about and finally finds a large heavy rock.  She uses this rock to crush the fishes head.  Next she slices the fish open and cleans it.  She chops off the head and fin with her very sharp rock.
 
Now she begins to gather wood to start a fire.  She will NOT take the pot back to Henry.  Angela knows he will use some excuse to steal her food.

After gathering kindling and wood Angela busily begins to use two rough rocks to create friction and a spark.  Henry actually taught her this skill shortly after he adopted her.  He didn't want to make fire himself so he taught her how to do it. 

Quickly her rocks cause spark.  The spark finds welcome in a pile of dry moss.  Wisely she adds wood slowly to the fire.  Soon she has the perfect blaze to begin cooking her soup.  She dumps the fish in with all of the other ingredients in the soup. 

Far enough from Henry to be safe she begins to sing at the top of her lungs, "Oh Don't You Remember Sweet Betsey From Pike."  She has no idea where Pike was or who the crazy Sweet Betsey was.  She just like the movement of the melody. 

The water soon begins bubbling, boiling, cooking the fish, potatoes, and onions.  As the smells of the cooking waft through the air, Angela's mouth begins to water. 

Trying to distract herself long enough for the food to cook she continues singing.  "Buffalo Girl Won't You Come Out Tonight?"  She loves the idea of "Dancing by the light of the moon."  So she begins to move, swaying back and forth through her impromptu campsite.  She kicks up her heels, and sings at the top of her lungs.

Finally, finally, the meal is finished.  Angela has savored each and every bite of her soup.  The best part is that Henry is no where to be seen.  She has come to understand that Henry's greatest joy is in taking any and all joy away from her. 

Finishing her feast she cleans the pot.  Next she adds water to it, and puts some earth, a stone, and  blackberry leaves in it.  Henry would be very suspicious if she came back with an empty pot.  He knew that she was very hungry.

Angela put out the fire.  She stirred and stirred hoping that Henry would not notice the tiny bit of smoke that rose upwards.  Finally she worked her way back through the woods. 

Henry snarled when he saw her coming.  "Where'd you go that took so long?"

"I couldn't find anything for the pot.  I finally just put some stones, dirt, and leaves in it."

Henry grinned.  His grin was not the result of amusement.  This grin, Henry's grin made Angela think of an old skull that they had once found in a cave.  The lips pulled back revealing dark and damaged teeth.  Angela turned her head.

She put the pot on the coals to cook.  She did not leave the pot for very long.  Drinking her stone tea she acted as though every mouthful was heaven. 

Henry was annoyed.  He had done his best, once more, to deprive Angela of nutrition but he could tell that some how, some way she had found food.  He was convinced that someone who was truly hungry could not eat stone soup with such enjoyment.  Angrily he strode to Angela and knocked the pan over. 

Angela jumped up and said, "Why did you do that?" 

Henry snarled, "You don't deserve to eat.  You are a miserable thief, a miserable, idiotic girl child with no brains.  I don't know why I don't just shoot you.  You're no good to me."

Angela smiled slowly.  "Shoot me then.  It won't take you long to train someone else.  It only took you three years to train me well, and I learn really fast."

There was a long, heated, silence as Henry considered his options.  Finally Henry turned on his heal and strode away.

Angela cleaned out the pot, and silently counted her blessings that for once she had a full stomach.