Two of my favourite characters are Twever and Ardo. Here they are sitting round a camp fire along with two others. Twever, is cooking.


“Do you fancy a nibble of my sausage, Sexy?” asked Twever, innocently.

Jennifer gave Twever a hard stare. “No.”

“Are you sure? Go on, you know you want a nibble of my sausage.”

“Let me make this quite plain, Twever. I am not going to nibble your sausage.”

Twever looked crestfallen for a moment before perking up again. “Natti-boy?”

“Don’t call me Natti-boy, Twever,” warned Nathanial West.

“…do you want a nibble of my sausage?”

“Go on, then.”

Twever pierced a sausage with a long thin stick. Removing it from the frying pan, which was sitting on the smouldering embers of the campfire, he handed it over to Nathanial. “Wrap your mouth around that.”

Nathanial took hold of the stick and bit into the hot sausage.


Nathanial nodded and smiled.

“See, Jennifer? Natti-boy likes nibbling on my sausage,” grinned Twever, ignoring the dirty looks from both of his companions.

“Ardo!” called Twever as he pierced another sausage with a fresh stick and flicked it over his shoulder, high in the air.

There was a deep low growl, a sense of movement, and then the sausage vanished in mid-air.

Jennifer shuddered.

“What?” asked Twever.

“That is unnatural.”

Both Twever and Nathanial gave Jennifer a questioning glance.

“You know what I mean,” she said defensively.

“You leave poor Ardo alone,” said Twever.

“Is he safe?”

“Of course not. He is a lean mean killer. Aren’t you, Ardo? Who’s got big, huge, gnashing teeth, then?” cooed Twever.

A low menacing growl answered Twever.

“Who’s a psychopathic killer, then? Yes, you are. Yes, you are.”

“What does he look like, Twever?” asked Jennifer as Nathanial reached forward and speared another sausage from the pan.

Twever looked first at the frying pan, which now only contained two cooked sausages, then at Nathanial, then back at the frying pan before finally fixing Nathanial with a glacial stare. “Keep your hands off my sausages.”

Nathanial blew on the sausage before deliberately and slowly taking a bite. Twever narrowed his eyes.

“Twever,” said Jennifer.

Twever keep his eyes on the traitorous Nathanial.

“Twever,” repeated Jennifer.


“I said, what does Ardo look like?”

“Well, he looks like…” Twever turned his head to stare at a spot about six feet away and shrugged his shoulders. “He looks like….an Ardo.”

“Twever, what does that mean?”

“It means that he looks like an Ardo.”

“You are a most annoying creature,” declared Jennifer.

“Whatever you say, Sexy.”

“You are also completely intolerable.”

“You know, the angrier you get, the sexier you become, you sexy minx.”

Jennifer gave a snort of disgust and stood up. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Be careful. It’s getting dark,” said Nathanial.

“Do you really think there is anything out there that can hurt me?” spat out Jennifer.

Nathanial turned his head to look at Jennifer. “Then why did you bring us with you?”

“To do the dog work.”

“As always,” he replied before returning his gaze to the fire.

Jennifer looked as if she was about to say something before turning and walking away.

“I think you have upset her,” said Twever.

“Me? What about you?”

“We were just having a friendly banter,” Twever removed an onion from a bag along with a small knife and started to peel it, “when you gave her that really annoying mocking smile of yours.”

Nathanial smiled at Twever.

“Yes, that one.” Pulling out a wooden plate, Twever started to slice and dice the onion. “No one knows who you are mocking – yourself, the world, or them. It’s really annoying.”

“Yes, I know.”

Twever added the onion to the pan with a sharp sizzle and gave the pan a couple of shakes. “She is worried.”

“Yes, I know.”

Twever looked round until he spotted his backpack. Reaching out, he pulled it towards him. Opening the pack, he rummaged inside before retrieving a bottle of brandy and poured a generous splash into the pan. Twever then took a generous swig from the bottle before leaning over and passing it to Nathanial.

Nathanial rubbed the top of the bottle with his hand before taking a gulp. Settling down, he watched Twever continue his cooking.

“That’s one thing I always admire about you, Nathanial; your witty and intelligent conversation,” said Twever as he stirred the pan while adding a pinch of herbs and spices from another small bag at his side.



“I can’t help but wonder – where did you get the backpack from?”

“From this bloke.”

“What bloke?”

“This bloke I met about an hour before we all met up.”

“Did he not mind you taking his pack?”

“Nope. He was dead.”

“He was dead.”





“He was carrying sausages plus a leg of deer and Ardo was nearby, which is pretty suicidal.”


The delicious aroma from the cooking reached Nathanial. “You should have been a chef, Twever.”

“I was before I became…what I am,” replied Twever as he stirred and shook the pan, “hence why I added a splash of brandy to the pan. It picks up all the flavours from the pan and creates a wonderful and tasty light gravy.”

Jennifer walked back into the camp.

“That was quick,” stated Nathanial.

“Yes, it was,” replied Jennifer. “I just wanted a quick stretch of my legs.”

Nathanial shrugged and returned to watching the dancing flames.

Twever reached into the backpack and took out a wooden bowl into which he poured the sausages, fried onions, and reduced gravy. He then placed a spoon in the bowl and silently handed the meal to Jennifer.

Jennifer reluctantly reached out and took the offering. “Smells nice.”

Twever smiled and removed a small loaf of bread from the pack. Breaking lumps off it, he wiped the frying pan, mopping up the remaining gravy.

Jennifer made a small noise of pleasure as she tucked into her evening meal.

“See, Natti-boy,” said Twever, “I can always satisfy a woman with my sausage.”

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