Should she say anything? The ease on her mother’s face will be gone like it never existed if she does. The intent way Tabitha had looked at her after the pill incident will return. Even worse, perhaps she’ll see more than Charlotte has and that will be the end of her hope. That thought decides for her. There’s no upside to telling her mother. None at all. The truth can be overrated.
With an elaborate waggle of her eyebrows, she sucks in her stomach and groans, “Only that I’m dying of hunger over here. Can I have extra dessert?”
Her mother’s laugh makes the lie worth it.
Willa
Four long and torturous days pass before Claire returns. They can only search so far and with so many people. Many lives rely on the secrecy under which they live and there’s no getting around that simple bit of math.
Jeff seems to age a decade in those few days and there’s no question that he’s angry. He’s her father and his desire to divide everyone in the camp into groups and send them into the mountains screaming Claire’s name is entirely understandable. It’s also impossible.
Even so, there are people searching, probably too many given their circumstances. After all, there’s an armed camp of men who Claire had previously reported as “smelling angry.” Bee’s final choice for the scouting mission, a girl of eighteen named Iris, leads a small group into the wilds, searching for signs of Claire’s passing.
Another group, this time consisting of men, starts in the direction more directly aimed toward the last location they had for the men’s camp. At least they might pass for another group with the same mission if they’re seen. Of course, this is also dangerous. They could be killed to eliminate the competition.
They find nothing and are back to resupply when Claire comes strolling into the camp like there’s nothing wrong. Her brown clothes blend in with the dirt encrusting her hair and skin. She goes directly for the fire and the pot of herb-flavored water they call tea just beside it. Everyone is still staring at her as she pours a cup and begins to drink.
When she raises her eyes and sees all the faces, she shrugs and says, “I’m back.”
Her words break the spell. Bee waddles quickly in the direction of the communications hut where Jeff is getting briefed by the two scout leaders over their worn map. He bursts through the door with a cry and runs for his daughter, while she calmly drinks down her tea and watches him over the rim of her metal cup.
Willa shivers at the sight. The girl is entirely unmoved. Beau was more correct than he might have thought that first day he called her a wolf. She is growing into something more than human, something wild and of the forest, but not a wolf. A wolf would be more caring of her pack. Or maybe she is caring of her pack. Perhaps it’s only that the way she shows it is more feral than Willa can neatly categorize.
When Jeff reaches Claire, he grabs her up in a hug, his words spilling out like they’re being shaken from a bag. Partial questions and sentences of worry and care. Claire finally seems to understand that she should be more responsive, so she drops the cup to wrap her arms around her father. Even in that, she’s only partly present. Claire’s eyes find Willa over her father’s shoulder and she widens her eyes, communicating a need to talk.
How can she break into this display of fatherly affection? No doubt, there will be recriminations, questions, ineffectual threats to ground her to the camp, all of it followed by more hugs and smothering affection that Claire will tolerate with increasing impatience. The very last thing Jeff will think of is to ask what Claire found, but that’s exactly what they need to know.
Bee slides next to her, still breathing a little heavily after her rush to the comms hut. In a low voice, she says, “I always forget I’ve got this giant belly, then I do something stupid like try to run. It’s like trying to haul a watermelon around in a fanny pack. I swear this kid’s going to come out already bouncing. Or maybe with a concussion.”
Willa snorts softly, because Bee is hilarious even when she’s not trying to be. “What a picture that is,” she says. If they had a watermelon, she might actually try and see what that feels like.
Jeff is already passing the shocked stage and graduating to the angry questioning phase of Claire’s return. Willa has almost made up her mind that she’ll have to wait for this to play out when Claire suddenly reaches out and puts her filthy hand over her father’s mouth.
“Papa, you have to be quiet now. I have to talk,” she says, her face as close to expressionless as it’s ever been.
Whether he’s shocked into silence or simply doing as she says, Jeff closes his mouth when Claire pulls her hand away. Turning to face Willa and Bee where they stand some distance away, Claire says, “You don’t have much time. I need to talk to everyone right now.”
*****
Much later, as the camp grows quiet and the fire burns into red embers that put out a surprising amount of heat, Willa asks Bee what she thinks. Bee is silent for a long time. They watch the red glow slowly consume the wood and turn it gray.
At last, she answers. “I think we should trust Claire’s instincts. She’s never been wrong before. She knows people too well. And I swear she really can smell what they feel. It’s weird, but I think she really can.”
Willa nods, then thinks of what Claire shared. The group of men that she calls angry are no longer the only group of
