One of those nursing mothers is right there in the group, her baby half-asleep after a good feed. “Speak for yourself. What do you think is going to happen to my daughter if we lose? I’ll fight. Make no mistake about that. I’ll chew them up and spit them into the fire!”
“Okay,” Willa says, hands up to placate the sudden rise in temper. “We can figure out details later. Everyone will have to decide for themselves. Claire gave us some information, but we don’t even know how many are in the group, what their ultimate goal is, or anything really. We need to know more. For all we know, this is like that group hired by the government to locate, but not apprehend, any women they can find. Those guys went away as soon as the snow started and never came back.”
“Did Claire say the men she saw were wearing uniforms?” Bee asks.
“No.”
“Well, there you go then. Probably not friendly census takers,” another woman says in a flat voice.
Addressing Bee specifically, in hopes of avoiding more commentary, Willa says, “You’re our best scout and you’ve been training the others. Who’s the best one out of that group? We’re going to have to send someone, so it needs to be someone who can handle the pressure.”
Bee leans back a little, stretching her back, and pausing to think. Willa can almost see her bringing up and discarding names. At last she says, “I’d go, but the truth is my balance is completely off and I’m not even close to being my best right now with this huge belly hanging off me. Do you want an honest answer? You might not like it.”
Willa is pretty sure she knows what name Bee is going to offer when she says that. Still, before she and the others even consider such a tasking, it needs to be openly aired. She nods and says, “Go ahead and tell me.”
“Claire. Claire is even better than me. She’s the one for this job.”
*****
Claire’s father, Jeff, is far less than enamored of the idea. At first outraged, then angry, he flatly refuses for his daughter. “She’s twelve, for heaven’s sake! You don’t send a twelve-year-old to spy on camps of men who hunt women!”
Willa expected this, but she had to ask. The next one of the list is a pale comparison when it comes to skill in the woods. She’s young and strong and can get through the forest skillfully, but she doesn’t possess the same patience, the ability to calmly remain in place despite discomfort or fear.
“I understand, Jeff,” Willa says, smiling a little to make sure he knows there are no hard feelings. “We just had to ask.”
Unmollified, he says, “You had to ask? No, you didn’t. You should have pushed that idea right off the list.”
Without another word, he walks away. Willa knows he’ll calm down and eventually, he’ll even understand. After all, he had to come here in the first place because his little girl had become a secret killer of the men who traveled these lands, little poisonous mushrooms her weapon of choice. She’s hasn’t done that since he returned, but whether it’s because she realizes the error of her ways or simply because there have been no groups small enough for her to sneak through is the real question.
If forced to give an opinion, Willa would say it was more likely the latter. And, in truth, no one can be absolutely sure she hasn’t been out there killing people. Maybe Claire had simply learned not to tell people she did it because they disapproved. Who could know?
Bee sighs, then pats Willa’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ll go talk to Sarah and tell her she’s been selected. I’ll be able to get her real opinion if I go talk to her on my own. I don’t know if she’ll agree, but I’ll try.”
Willa nods, then smiles as Bee walks away. It’s more of a waddle now. It will be her turn in labor soon enough. Just a few more months, though she’s showing as if she’s much further along. It’s surprising how quickly time passes sometimes.
The flash of pale skin that signals Claire passing in the woods makes Willa look. The girl is headed away from her and she appears to be wearing only her underwear. She probably went splashing in the little pool that collects in the hollow of rock a bit further down the slope. She’s not supposed to, which explains the rapid run through the trees instead of through the camp.
Willa shakes her head and smiles. It must be so amazing to be young in a world like this. Amazing and terrible. A combination of freedom and restriction Willa can’t even imagine.
It’s only much later that evening, when Claire doesn’t show up for her bedtime, that they realize what she’s done.
Miranda
Cilla comes for visits a few more times over the next weeks. The visits coincide with the ripening of various items in her garden. The excuse that she needs to see the preparation with her own eyes is apparently sufficient for George to bring her.
Tom and George’s sudden appearance in the basement had stopped Cilla from explaining her warning the first day. Miranda’s stomach was tied in knots until the next visit. What did Cilla mean with her incomplete warning? What would happen to her? What did Miranda need to escape from?
Perhaps the charged atmosphere created by Miranda’s anxiety was noticeable to the men, because either Tom or George—or both—are present during the entire second visit. Despite the smiling assurances that both men are eager to learn, Miranda knows that isn’t true. Tom may have shown interest in her garden, but this smiling and overly solicitous hovering is something new.
They are being watched. Miranda’s inability
