Novel Titanic
Chapter 439
Legs crossed elegantly.
Back straight as an arrow.
No matter the time or place, he always carried himself with discipline, standing tall like a pine tree, sitting firm like a bell.
Despite his professed Christian faith, evident from the red rosary he twirled in his fingers, his aura screamed of a sovereign, commanding respect from the highest echelons.
Anthea, blessed with sharp vision, could spot from afar that he was reading a paper filled with French articles.
It was The Guardian.
She found it amusing that a capitalist like him would fancy such a publication. Raising an eyebrow, she initiated a conversation, "Good morning." "Morning," Sherman replied, looking up slightly. "You're up early, aren't you?"
"Just off for a run," Anthea tapped her headphones.
Sherman nodded, then added, "What would you like for breakfast?"
"You're cooking?" Anthea's eyebrow arched higher.
"There are sandwiches and milk in the fridge, just heat them up in the microwave. If you're not in the mood for sandwiches, I've also got English muffins and oatmeal."
Anthea pondered for a moment, "I'll go with the sandwich and milk."
"Alright then."
"I'll head out for my run now."Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.
"Take care."
The air was crisp at six in the morning on the island, the gentle sea breeze mingled with the chirping of birds creating a serene atmosphere. The island wasn't too large; a full lap took roughly an hour.
As Anthea jogged around, she marveled at the rich flora and fauna, spotting several wild rabbits and goats along the way.
Wild goats!
The thought of succulent goat meat was enticing; these animals, never having fed on anything but the lush vegetation of the island, would undoubtedly taste divine.
Images of roasted lamb chops, braised goat, spicy goat stew, and roasted goat legs waved at her from her imagination. The thought of biting into a crispy, golden lamb chop made her mouth water.
Following that with a sip of tangy goat meat soup would be perfection.
Swallowing hard, Anthea's pace slowed as she sneaked behind a tree, scheming on how to catch one of those plump goats.
Catching it alive was out of the question.
After some thought, she decided on a swift approach.
Finding a smooth stone, she took aim at a goat's head.
Whoosh!
Thud!
The stone hit its mark, and the goat collapsed, eyes closed, legs twitched, and it was gone.
Anthea approached, hoisted the goat over her shoulder, and hurried back to the villa.
The whole operation was smooth, without a wrinkle of concern.
Sherman was about to head out when he caught sight of Anthea.
And on her shoulder, a sizable figure!
What was that?
A goat?
He was stunned, almost thinking it was a mirage.
Wasn't she out for a run?
How did she end up with a goat?
That goat looked to be at least over a hundred pounds!
How did she manage to carry it?
Excited, Anthea looked at Sherman, "Guess what I've got here?"
"A goat?"
"Exactly!" Anthea continued, "This
little fatty is going to make someet
delicious roast and lamb rolls! Too bad, you won't get to enjoy
swnow
Sherman twisted his rosary, "You caught that yourself?"
"Yeah," Anthea nodded, "Just ran into it."
Sherman was taken aback. He had never seen anything like it.
Women of high social standing often flocked to him, showcasing a myriad of personas.
But Anthea was different.
He had never met anyone quite like her.
She seemed detached, as if
indifferent to everything, yet she excelled in various fields, turning situations to her advantage with ease and grace.
Living life on her own terms, doing whatever she pleased without a care for others' opinions.
Anthea carried the goat to the backyard, fetching knives and containers for the meat.
Sherman followed her outside.
Looking at Sherman, Anthea suggested, "Maybe you should step back a bit."
"Why?" Sherman was puzzled.
Anthea picked up a sharp knife, its
blade glinting in the sunlight,
"Because things are about tool
bit bloody."
"You're going to butcher it?"
She nodded.
Sherman suggested, "Shouldn't we get a professional?"
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