Colin coughed at the horrid feeling of the mushed up bugs in his mouth and spat on the ground.
"*PFFT!* THIS IS AWFUL!" Colin wailed while gagging.
Donavan's wife simply stood there, solemnly looking at the chunky black haired gamer, who was just about to vomit on the ground in front of him.
"Well men, looks like someone's going to be shooting his own supper." She said as she strapped a crossbow to Colin's back.
And so Colin spent the whole week shooting at anything that could be a meal, but hardly bagged anything. He got two rabbits, a squirrel, some ducks, but not enough for a fat guy like him.
Colin was laying in a sleep bag starving about a week into the trek.
Suddenly, a delicious smell hit his nostrils and made him practically levitate above the ground.
The gamer almost floated towards the scent like he was in a cartoon. After a significant span with his daily three meals and two to three snacks, the hunger was getting to him and all he wanted was some good ol' junk food... or anything that wasn't rodent or duck again. He stopped at the source of the scent...