“He’s not ready yet. That’s all.”
“Maybe we should start feeding homeless people. At least they’ll be grateful. Don’t get me wrong, I love dogs, and I want to help him but damn. Right?”
“We’re not doing this just to feed him, Kenz. We’re trying to save him, get him out of the woods and hopefully into a good home before he becomes completely feral or dies out there.”
She blows her hair out of her face. “I know. I’m just frustrated with him. I want him to just get in that cage already. He’s wasting a lot of good food. Isn’t he hungry? He must be. What’s he eating out there?”
I shrug, but I’m intrigued by her intense interest. “Maybe squirrels and other rodents.”
“Like rabbits?” she asks in horror.
“Maybe…”
She looks like she’s going to start to cry. “He better not be eating rabbits, Tor. Or we’re gonna leave his ass out there.”
“Rabbits are fast, I doubt he could catch one,” I lie. “Maybe he’s a vegetarian.”
Giggling, she turns up the radio. “You’re such a nut sometimes.”
It takes us about fifteen minutes to get to the dirt road that takes us half way to the river, then we have to park the truck and walk the rest of the way. I grab the small cooler filled with fresh meat from the backseat and she grabs her backpack and we hike about a quarter mile to the first cage. We put on disposable gloves to remove the old meat and put it in a trash bag and then refill the cage. I check the hidden night vision camera to make sure it’s still working while she takes a small box wrapped in brown paper out of her backpack and puts it on top of the cage.
“A book. I think he’ll like it.” She says when she notices me watching her. Nodding, I reach out and grab her hand while we climb over a fallen tree to get to the next cage. Kenzi likes to leave gifts for Ty for when he checks the cages. She leaves him books, CDs, little statues. I’ve seen him on the recorded feeds when he finds them. He holds whatever it is in his hands for a long time, just staring at it, sometimes gliding his fingers over it, before he shoves it in his coat pocket. I don’t have to show her what I see on camera for her to know he appreciates it, because she doesn’t care about that part. She just wants to give. Even though she hasn’t seen him in a very long time, it means a lot to me that she’s never forgotten him.
My two best friends gave me my third best friend. Kenzi is the greatest parts of her parents combined. She’s got Asher’s philosophical I-want-to-fix-everyone outlook and Ember’s happy, free, no bullshit spirit.
Lately I’ve been wondering how she sees me. Now that she’s older, I’m sure I don’t come off as the hero who wipes tears and brings home bunnies like when she was little, and I kinda miss that. It was a cool feeling to have this little person view me as the one that made everything better for them.
After we check the second cage we make our way up the trail a ways to sit on a big rock next to the river, where we watch the water for a few minutes before she pulls a penny out of her pocket and grins at me before tossing it into the water. This has become a little tradition with us – making wishes.
“What did you wish for?” I ask her.
“Direction.”
I narrow my eyes at her in confusion. “Direction? For what?”
“My future.”
My fingers twirl my own penny between my thumb and forefinger. I can’t throw mine until we talk about hers. That’s the rule.
“I’m not sure what I should be doing, Tor.”
“That’s simple, Angelcake. Do whatever you want to do.”
“But it’s not that simple. I don’t think I want to go to college.”
“So don’t. Your parents have never cared if you went to college or not. That’s not important to them, they just want you to be happy.”
She chews her lip. “I know. Dad says I can do whatever will make me happiest and give me peace of mind as he calls it.”
“He means that, Kenz. Within reason, of course. You can’t go off and be a stripper.”
She smiles weakly, still stuck in her serious mode.
She touches her pink work boot to my black one. “I like the little bit of modeling I’ve done, but I really don’t want that to be what I do with my life. And I really do love to write, like my grandmother. But again, I don’t know if I could do that day in and day out for the rest of my life. And I love my calligraphy, but not many people will pay for handwritten wedding invitations and stuff like that anymore.”