He took the meat and dug in.  He'd never had goat, but it tasted pretty damn good.  Then again any food was good food.  This wasn't a real test of Marie's cooking skills.  He wondered what she could do with real herbs in a real kitchen.  The best food he'd eaten had been after the war, not the processed stuff, but fresh meat and farm raised produce cooked up just right.<br/><br/>"It's good, Marie.  It's real good."  If only he could have that again.  Marie might be damaged goods, but she knew cooking and sewing.  Not to mention she could sing.  An image flashed through his mind of the two of them playing house: Marie tending the home, sewing, cooking up his kills with him hunting, maybe farming a little.  For a moment there were even children in the dream.  Then he saw them all dead.<br/><br/>“Briar Rose probably was a good place once.  It’s dangerous now.  It’s every man for himself.”  There were no safe havens.  He knew that.  Besides he had promises to keep.  He ate his meat.  “We should move right after we eat.  A fire in the daylight leaves smoke.  It might attract attention.”<br/><br/>A small fire, so a small chance, but Marie wasn’t the only one with ghosts sealed away and his were rattling their chains.<br/>