She gives him a wry smile, letting him know with that small twist of her lips that she doesn’t believe it, but thinks it’s nice that he does. He takes away his hand with a sigh.
“How do you feel about today?” she asks, changing the subject.
He sighs again, then examines his fingers. One of his fingernails has somehow split down the entire length and the line is red near the nail bed. It must hurt, she thinks, then wonders how that even happened.
She’s about to ask, when he stops his examination, rubs his hands quickly together and looks at her. He’s smiling again. “Good. As far as anyone can trust anyone anymore, I think we can trust them. The rangers vouch for the group, and if they’re bringing survivors to join the camp here, it’s in their best interest to keep it quiet.”
One of the old-style percolator pots starts bubbling, little flashes of still pale liquid reaching the glass knob on top. Almost without thinking about it, Willa shifts that pot to a different spot on the grate over their fire. They’ve done this so often she can tell exactly where the heat will be just right. Coffee made this way must be allowed time.
“There’s a lot of excitement about the new people,” Willa allows, but then addresses the real concern. “And a lot of worry over how we’ll feed them.”
“Yes,” he answers, the lines around his eyes deepening. “And that’s why I’m hoping they really do show up with all they’ve promised.”
“But you know we won’t turn them away if they don’t.”
“I know. I worry, but I know.”
Just then, a flash of movement draws their attention. A wild streak of dirty skin flies out of the trees on nimble feet, swerving around the women now waking and getting on with their morning tasks. The girl has a worn canvas shopping bag swinging from one hand, the fading green Whole Foods still visible behind all the dirt. Willa smiles when the girl laughs, but it’s more delighted squeal than true laugh. It fits with the little girl’s personality all too well.
A moment later, a young woman named Ellie bursts out of the trees near the spot where the girl came through, a brush in her upraised hand. “You have to brush your hair! It’s a rat nest!” she shouts, but it’s not a very loud shout. They are naturally conservative when it comes to noise. The mountains are vast, the forest a natural sound break, but they want to stay hidden.
The girl veers sharply in Willa’s direction. She was naked save for a pair of filthy underwear, but this is a common thing. She’ll put on clothes eventually. She never seems to feel the cold. Stopping with alarming suddenness at the log, the girl grins. Her hair really is a rat’s nest. There are clumps of pine needles sticking out of the dark mass. As usual, she’s covered in mud, and she scratches at her belly very quickly, revealing a small patch of pink, goose-pimpled skin.
Tossing the bag in the general direction of Willa’s lap, she says, “Food.”
That’s all there is, then she darts a glance at Ellie, who is gaining on her now that they’re on open ground. Then she’s gone, leaving the scent of water and mud and forest in her wake.
“That girl is half wolf,” Beau muses, but he seems pleased to say it.
Willa gives him a sharp glance. “Don’t encourage her. She’s a monster.”
Beau says nothing, but points with his eyes at the bag in her lap. It’s wet and smells a little. The raised eyebrows challenge her to open it, an unspoken dare. The girl, who is very inappropriately named Claire, is often springing such things on them. The bag might contain anything. A dead rabbit, equally dead doves, or maybe mushrooms, most of which will be toxic and impossible to eat. No one knows how she manages to get so close to animals, but she does. She has no trouble dispatching them either, a quick twist of the head and no mess.
“Half wolf indeed,” Willa murmurs, touching the bag for hints at the contents. Taking a breath to prepare herself to see anything, she utters a sound of surprise when she sees the contents. Withdrawing one of the smooth bodies from the bag, she holds up a fish. It’s so fresh the eyes are still shiny.
“Well now,” Beau says with admiration, taking the fish from her to look it over. “I’d say your wolf cub has a new trick.”
There are three fish, and they aren’t small either. What Willa doesn’t understand is where they came from. There are streams and rivers all through the mountains. There are even lakes. There are fish in some of them, but none of those are close by. The nearest one is over a hundred feet below the cliff and quite some distance away. It’s too near a hiking trail that used to be popular, so they haven’t gone there except in an exploratory way.
While Willa thinks and worries about this new development, and the possibility that Claire got so far from camp without anyone noticing, Beau examines the fish, even going so far as to open the mouth and look inside. With a slightly confused look, he lays the fish on the bag and says, “No hooks or marks from hooks. I wonder.”
“Wonder what?”
“You know, I think she might have caught these with her hands. Does she have a net? Or access to one?”
Willa thinks, but has no idea. They have a very respectable supply of fishing gear, most of which hasn’t been used, but that’s all she knows. She shrugs.
“Well, whatever she did, you should find out so you can do it too.”
*****
After Beau and the three women going with him leave the camp, the others have their meeting. All three of the women that leave have been disguised as men, all of them tall and big enough to make the lie seem real. None of them
