And I knew there was a place where the flue from Eric's heater went through the wall and the cover guard didn't fit. Well, all right, I'd peeked through it sometimes when he'd first come there, just to watch how beautiful he was when he was reading his paper or something.So I scrambled into that service tunnel and found the right chink and got my eye up to it. I'd already missed the preliminary sparring. They'd got down to brass tacks by the time I had them in view. And I found myself looking at an entirely different Eric from the man I meant to marry!He wasn't lounging in his armchair, of course. Not right then. He was standing in the middle of his living room, his feet wide-planted and his hands on his hips, glowering down at Nancy as if he were a Greek god and she was just a lowly mortal. He was giving her the eye, all right; he wasn't missing anything about the way she was dressed. And naturally, he was seeing it from a man's point of view, missing the sleaziness and seeing it as. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made to me. For all I knew the 'gifts' were fully automated, and simply waited on me achieving certain goals toward long term survival. The horses would make my life easier, but didn't contribute directly to our survival. On the earlier gifts, the same rule seemed to hold true as well. Hell, even Julie didn't contribute directly to my survival, though she and all the other gifts contributed to the quality of life tremendously.Once the horses were watered and fed, the men and I journeyed back to the main encampment. I led and rode all four horses one after the other, and they were as placid and calm as any horse I'd ever been near. They seemed to positively thrive on my attention. Each night I hobbled them and kept them as close to camp as possible. I didn't sleep much, fearing predators in the night, but fire and the men kept the predators at bay. When we arrived at camp, the stinky bastards all basically freaked out. Apparently very few.
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