He grinned at her.
She tossed another one back at him, and he missed, and they both grinned.
Then he grunted, remembering something from the dim past. He picked up a small fallen branch from the ground.
When he looked up, she was poised to run.
This time he shook his head, waving the stick gently. "Play," he said.
She threw another stone, eyes warily on the stick. He swung, missed.
He hit the next one, and the sharp crack, and the noise the stone made rattling off into the bushes, flattened him to the ground, eyes searching for sign of men.
She was beside him. He smelled her body and her breath.
They saw no one.
He looked at her lying beside him. She was grinning again.