When evening descended on Long Island in winter, the setting sun seemed like honey and wine flowing from a sacred tree, slowly falling from the azure sky until the layered forest was dyed in rich colors, the tree shadows deep green, and the clear cries of wild ducks returning to their nests drifted from the horizon.
The anglers began packing up in an orderly fashion, then set off for home laden with bags and bundles.
Schiller first put the few live fish and a pile of squid into the water tank, then placed the killed fish, sliced fish meat, and other ingredients into an insulated cooler with ice packs. He packed up the fishing rods, folded the stools, took two items in each hand, and started walking.
Loki, who had arrived latest and was carrying the least, could not help turning to look at Schiller. She smiled and said, "I never used to imagine you getting off work, buying groceries, and going home to cook."
"I can cook, but I usually don't buy groceries." Schiller shrugged lightly and turned to Natasha. "After all, not long after I came to New York, S.H.I.E.L.D. had their eye on me. They volunteered to take care of all my food, clothing, housing, and transportation."
"Back then, Nick expected you to live on grass and milk, but you soon hit him over the head with your salary statement." Natasha walked forward carrying several bags as well, smiling as she spoke.
As the sunset shone upon the ice, the thin mist that had risen from it during the day because of the warmth gradually vanished, leaving the ice glittering brilliantly.
Beyond the perilous battlefield, free of mundane errands and the grim tension of facing a great enemy, their shadows stretched beneath the evening sun like carving