Page 6 of Strawberries to Share: Ares’ Story (The Gods Made Me Do It #16)

“Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, that’s hot! But, woo hoo, this idea is working. This is so cool. I can’t remember the last time I ate something that was cooked. And, mmm, can you smell it? It’s so delicious. Oh, this is a meal fit for a king for sure.” Marty gave a happy little shiver as he set up his array of twigs that he had used to spear his vegetables with so that he could cook them over the fire in his cauldron without burning his fingers.

The vegetables were succulent, crispy, and with that little hint of charring that gave the vegetables the caramelized taste that Marty had always enjoyed. Better than that, they were hot, and from his first mouthful, Marty felt warm all over. “We should have done this yesterday, or the day before, or even the week before,” he said happily. “I had so much fun with this, and you, my furry little friend, did so well. Look at this corncob. It’s just at the right point of ripeness. I could barely get the twig in it.”

He picked up the cob of corn and merrily munched on the now warm and slightly sooty kernels, savoring every mouthful. Admittedly, there was more soot on that cob than on some of the other vegetables – the cob was heavy and had fallen off the twig Marty had pushed into the stalk end. But Marty quickly fished it out of the flames. Three of his fingertips were only slightly blistered and he knew he would heal quickly. The food was saved, and that was the most important thing.

Dressed in his hoodie and his jeans again, his feet slipped into his sneakers, and his belly starting to fill, Marty was determined to be positive. He never lied about his circumstances, not even to himself, but he wasn’t going to dwell on the negatives, either. He had hot food and a quiet spot to eat. The fire was throwing off enough heat to take the edge off the chill, and the stars above him glistened brilliantly in the clear night sky which meant it wasn’t going to rain. All bonuses in Marty’s book.

He quickly polished off the two cobs of corn and a pile of beans, which didn’t taste that nice, but they had a lot of nutrients. The peas he had to eat uncooked because he knew from experience the pods would burst if he tried heating them over a flame. Broccoli and cauliflower tasted so wonderful with char marks, and his clever raccoon had also found a large bell pepper, which browned beautifully and yet had a sweet taste when Marty bit into it.

“Look at that,” he said, sitting back on his log, rubbing his belly with a satisfied smile. “Just by taking that extra five minutes to cook the food before I eat it, it just adds something, yes it does. A real positive something.”

Now that his vegetables had gone, Marty reached for the plate of strawberries. Yes, technically, it wasn’t a plate, it was a plank. But for Marty, the plank worked as a way to keep the strawberries off the ground before they were eaten, and in his head, that made the plank a plate. To him, those things mattered.

He picked one up, holding it up even though he couldn’t see that well. There was a faint glimmer of the moon, and combined with his raccoon’s excellent eyesight, that was enough for him to see how perfectly formed the strawberry was. “This has to be a magical fruit,” he said to the stars twinkling above him. “I don’t see how else anything could be formed this perfectly, a generous bounty to be sure. Maybe one of those plants in there is one of those that as soon as the fruit is picked, it just bloomed another one.”

As he chewed, Marty thought about it. “No,” he decided. “That can’t be the case because there was a definite gap when I took one. But I only took six. I didn’t take them all because I do know that’s wrong." Marty pointed his finger at the sky. “You can’t go taking everything, otherwise you’re not leaving anything for anyone else.”

Chuckling, Marty couldn’t get over the idea that the fruit was magical. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if this strawberry had magical properties – like a true magical piece of fruit. And how it would work, oh…oh.”

Marty wiggled on his seat as another idea hit him. “What if I bit into it, then suddenly my life would change, and I would be living inside a house and not outside of one, and there would be somebody in my life who actually cared for me the way I was, instead of trying to make me be different. That would be so incredible. And a pipe dream, so I’ve heard. At least, that’s what my friends used to say on the streets. But then they were smoking pipes, so maybe that’s why they called it that.”

Marty popped another strawberry in his mouth and moaned at the sweet taste. “I don’t know if this tastes any different from the ones from yesterday. It could be the anticipation of hoping to have another one of these today that makes it taste so sweet. Thank you so much,” he said to the stars. “For whoever this benefactor was, thank you for allowing me the opportunity to share in the sweetness of that gorgeous strawberry.”

He quickly ate the last ones, moaning each time because the sweetness seemed to be intensified somehow. “There’s definitely something in these magical strawberries, but they haven’t suddenly magically restored on my plate, so I’m guessing it’s time for sleep.”

Marty sat by the fire for a little while longer, before finding himself some twigs and a slightly larger piece of root that would hopefully keep the cauldron going till morning. Trying to get the fire to go with that wood whittling effect wasn’t an easy thing to do on an empty stomach. But Marty would just accept that if that’s what happened. “That’s tomorrow’s problem,” he muttered, as he crawled under his shelter. “I have somewhere to sleep, an almost full belly, and at least when I’m alone, I can dream impossible dreams about having a real home.”

Closing his eyes, Marty started to imagine what it might be like to live in a house as grand as the one attached to where he was camping, or to even live in a house at all. A tiny one-bedroom studio apartment would seem like a castle to him if it was his. He tried to stop shivering – there was a definite bite in the air. As much as I’d love a house, I’d settle for a thicker blanket, he thought as he tried to force his shivering limbs to relax. I won’t feel it when I’m asleep , he reminded himself, as he finally dozed off.

/~/~/~/~/

Ares could barely breathe. He also couldn’t drag himself away. Every cell in his body was yelling at him to translocate somewhere else. It didn’t matter where, but just leave. The vulnerability, the abject poverty, the absolute happiness…

There was nothing in the man’s camp at all except two log rounds that seemed to serve as seats, a small shelter the man had clearly built himself and what looked like one stiff wind would blow over, and an old, rusted iron pot that was serving as a fireplace. Ares scanned the area repeatedly for a bag, trunk, box, small cupboard, even, indicating other possessions, but apart from the clothes currently on his back, that young man appeared to have nothing.

How did this happen? As the God of War, Ares was well aware of how strife and trauma could impact people in truly negative and horrific ways – it was one of the reasons he hated his designation.

But the man chatting to the stars had been happy . He had chatted about magical strawberries and how he dreamed of a house. But what had tugged at Ares’ long-dead heart was the way the man had thanked his benefactor for the stolen strawberries and then made a point of saying how important it was to leave food for others, when you’re clearly starving yourself!

All Ares had done was wave his hand, and strawberries appeared. Throughout the eons of his existence, he’d used his powers or his own skills interchangeably. He never gave it a thought. If he burned his bacon, for example, cooking for himself, he just waved away the mess and thought up a fresh plate of food.

The one thing Ares was certain of was that he’d personally never struggled for anything in his life – and yet, I’m the world’s grumpiest bastard. True fact. Ares had taken the hatred thrown at him by both parents and solidified it like a shield around him, refusing to show by word or deed he was anything more than the bastard he’d been painted as.

Until now.

I can’t leave him there. I have to do something. Ares looked back in the direction of the main house and quickly discounted it. He wasn’t ready to meet the man the Fates thought perfect for him, and wasn’t sure he ever would be, and besides he told himself, suddenly waking up in the main house could be really disconcerting for someone used to sleeping outside.

But the pool house…that could be an option. Ares quickly zapped himself inside the smaller one-bedroom house that had probably been built for guests or to provide somewhere for people to rest after a day by the pool. Ares had never been in it.

With one wave of his hand and the place was clean. Another wave filled the cupboards by the small kitchenette and the refrigerator with food. There were already plates, pots, cutlery, and a coffee machine so that should be sufficient.

A quick check in the bedroom showed there was a bed, so Ares added blankets, pillows, and fresh sheets, and then towels and toiletries in the bathroom.

Wandering back into the living space, Ares scowled. It was very plain and there was no heating. What the hell do people need to be comfortable? Using his own comfort as reference, Ares added a bigger and more plush couch, more cushions, another couple of throw rugs, a large rug on the floor, and some books for the shelves. Then he threw in a television over the fireplace and got the fire going – he made sure it would not go out.

Clothes. He’s going to need warm clothes. Another flick of his fingers in the direction of the bedroom, and Ares felt he’d done all he could.

But still he hesitated, trying to imagine how the little shifter would feel, waking up in a strange place. Finally, he clicked up a bowl of fresh strawberries, which he placed on the small table in the kitchen area. Then he added a note which he propped up next to the bowl, so it could be clearly seen as soon as the man came out of the bedroom.

He dreamed of magical strawberries so let him believe that’s exactly what happened. With one more click of his fingers, Ares transported the man and his raggedy blanket, so he was lying, still sleeping, on the new bed. Waiting for a moment, Ares reached over the mattress and carefully eased off the sneakers and put them on the floor. Then he flicked his finger, covering him with another blanket before moving away.

I have to go, I can’t let him find me here. And yet Ares was strangely reluctant. There was something wholesome in the slender man with his mop of brown and black hair, causing Ares to think of things he’d never entertained before, such as hugging the man, keeping him safe, learning what else made him laugh…and moan. The man eating those strawberries did things to Ares’ body no one had done before.

With a groan and a swirl of cells, Ares translocated back to the main house. He wouldn’t go far – he didn’t think that he could, but Ares had some serious thinking to do. At least for now, he knew the shifter was safe and warm.