Chapter 3: A Full Belly, A New Beginning

Dale thought for a second, then hurriedly tried to hand me the meat: “Boss, you should have this.”

He practically shoved the pot roast at me, desperation in his eyes. I realized for him, sharing food was more than kindness—it was a test of loyalty.

I waved him off: “Can’t eat greasy stuff.”

I kept my tone light, not wanting to get into the details of my own food hang-ups. The truth was, I just wanted Dale to have something good.

Dale looked at me, puzzled.

His eyes narrowed, probably wondering what kind of boss turns down meat for a stale biscuit.

“If you don’t eat, I’ll toss it.” I reached for the meal, and Dale quickly pulled it back. Seeing I was serious, he had no choice but to grab a handful of rice and eat it, chewing slowly, eyes closing in bliss.

The relief on his face was palpable. He took a shaky breath, savoring every bite as if it were Thanksgiving dinner after a month of fasting.

The boxed meal didn’t come with any utensils, which was a bit awkward.

I watched as Dale broke off a splinter from a branch lying outside the tent and fashioned it into a rough chopstick. Necessity was the mother of invention, I supposed.

“Is it good?”

“Delicious, boss! I’ve never had anything this good in my whole life.”

The words tumbled out, his mouth still half-full. It was the kind of endorsement you couldn’t buy.

“Glad you like it. Here’s another box—make sure you eat that too.” I handed him the other meal.

I tried to keep it casual, but the gratitude in Dale’s eyes nearly knocked me over. He clutched the food like it was a winning lottery ticket.

Dale looked at the food in his hands, stunned.

He blinked a few times, then started eating in earnest, silent except for the occasional sniffle.

Outside, the wind rattled the tent. For the first time since I woke up here, I wasn’t just surviving—I was in charge.