Ellie nods grimly in agreement. “Yes, that direction. Do they have vehicles?”
Beau looks away, so Willa knows the answer. “Yes, mostly parked at the little ranger area on the other side of the falls. We did see two trailers too. Probably ATVs or dirt-bikes.”
“So they can choose a louder, fast approach if they wanted?” Willa asks and Beau nods unhappily.
Bee, who is becoming crafty with so much recent experience stalking game, says, “More traps, then. We can make the woods a nightmare.”
“And make it dangerous for us to forage in the doing,” Willa says, thinking of the younger girls and their forays into the forest around the tribe’s camp.
Ellie snorts. “And exactly who’s going to forage while we know they’re out there?”
“Good point,” Willa says. They all exchange looks. This will change things dramatically. This is a big step. Willa can see the agreement in their faces and sighs. “Do it, Bee. Get your crew and set traps. Ellie, you get your watch team to protect them while they’re out.”
The two women walk away quickly, their steps eager. It shouldn’t be like this.
Stepping closer to Beau, who seems worn and tired all of the sudden, Willa rubs quickly at his shoulder to comfort him. “It is what it is,” she says.
“I know, but it shouldn’t be.” He goes silent, his brow furrowing enough that his wrinkles deepen.
“What is it?”
“It’s the men there. The two scouts were able to get pretty close, so they’re sure of what they saw. I don’t like it.”
“What do you mean exactly? The fact that they’re here is bad enough.”
Beau shifts his stance, leaning away from his artificial leg to ease the pressure. “The reason our scouts were able to watch so long is because of the way the camp is organized. It’s not just some random group of men who heard about us. They’re religious.”
Willa’s brow creases in confusion. “So? I’m not sure what that has to do with anything. A lot of our tribe is religious too.”
“If we could get someone back over there to watch, I’d know more, but even what was reported is worrisome. It’s not religious in the way any of us are familiar with. It’s like…I don’t know…like some bizarre crusade. Twisted up.”
“You mean like a cult?”
“Maybe,” Beau says, his eyes on the sloping, tree-covered land as if he might see the truth of the group from far away. “Here’s the thing. Our scouts reported that they moved into the camp’s normal watch positions because they have something like services and most of their watches go to them. They almost shut down the camp. It goes on for hours and our guys got a good long listen. It’s twisted stuff, like how they’d failed to protect women from the world, failed to shelter them, and discipline them to be led. All kinds of weird stuff.”
“Okay,” Willa says, not really all that shocked. Twisted beliefs are predictable after catastrophe.
Beau’s eyes leave the forest and focus on her. There’s fear in them, which isn’t something that happens often. Goose prickles break out on Willa’s arms. “What is it, Beau? Secrets are like fresh milk. They don’t improve over time in the light of day.”
She can see how much this will pain Beau to share even before he opens his mouth. He’s afraid, but not just of what he knows. He’s afraid of what knowing will do to her. She can see that too.
“Beau.”
“Willa, those men don’t want the women.” As her brow creases in confusion, he lays his aged hand on hers. “They want the girls. Only the children.”
Shaking her head and still confused, Willa says, “What? They’re pedophiles or something?”
“No, it’s not that. At least, I don’t think so.” He looks around, sees an old log and motions for Willa to sit. His artificial leg must be paining his hip, because he straightens it in front of him and sighs in relief.
“Are you alright, Beau?”
“I’m fine. Uneven ground is always a little harder to navigate, but I’m doing fine. Winter is right around the corner and my hips always know first.” At her look, he adds, “I’m fine. Honest. It would pain me exactly the same if I were in the city.”
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“Very sure.”
“Okay, then tell me what you heard about the men,” she says quietly.
“The scout that got closest relayed all this to me, so it’s only from one source, but it makes sense when combined with everything else we’ve seen or learned. I told the scout to keep it private until we could discuss it. I don’t want anyone to panic or do something foolish out of fear. It has to do with whatever religious bent they have down there. The report sounded like they had some idea that men caused The Dying because they didn’t keep women subservient or some shit like that.”
Willa doesn’t need to hear more details, though she’ll listen and mine for useful information. She can see the broad strokes from the few words Beau already relayed. It even makes a sort of terrible sense if looked at from the right perspective. Or the wrong perspective, as it were.
If looked at from a desperate perspective, it might even seem the only logical conclusion. If fear and helplessness or other strong negative emotions cause death, then can’t it be stopped by raising a girl to understand those situations as normal? If she’s raised from birth or girlhood to accept that she has no agency, no self-determination, no options, and is totally under the power of another person, won’t she grow used to it?
“So, they want our younger girls because they think they’ll be more malleable? They can raise them to be obedient and under their protection or what-not?” she asks, looking to confirm her thoughts.
With a half-shrug, Beau says,
