In my house, she saw what she lacked through sheer happenstance of birth. Had I gone to her place, I’d have seen the same—except for me, it’d have been spending time with her tight-knit, loving family. If I’d experienced that, would I have stayed away, too, avoiding a very different reminder of what could be?
Felicity looks around Rockton and compares it to what she has, and it makes her uncomfortable. Ambition is healthy. Envy is pointless and potentially destructive. It leads to the dissatisfied cry of “Why?”
Why do they have this, and I do not? It isn’t fair. They don’t deserve it. They haven’t earned it.
But Felicity quickly finds the solution to her problem. The only healthy solution to envy: What can I learn from this that will make my own life better? She begins to examine our building construction and asks questions about our sanitary system. We answer, and we continue with the tour.
Afterward, we don’t invite Felicity to join us at home. Petra will take care of her. We need time to rest and be alone. We indulge in a long dinner for two. Then Dalton goes to the station for a bit of work while I take Abby. By eight, we’re asleep.
THIRTY-SEVEN
The next morning, we’re off by seven, walking with flashlights into the darkness. Felicity and Petra are with us. Neither says much, and I get the impression that was the state of things last night.
When we meet up with Dalton, he says to Petra, “You got that gun I dropped by?”
She hesitates only a second before nodding and opening her jacket to reveal her personal handgun. If we get into trouble and Petra pulls out an unauthorized weapon, it’ll tell Felicity we’re lying about our gun regulations. Petra understands this and plays along.
We take Storm with us. Abby stays behind. I do not expect that we’re going to find unfit parents at the end of this journey. At worst, it might be a young couple who, with great reluctance, abandoned a winter-born child. That’s horrifying to us, but it’s the way Sidra was raised, and possibly Baptiste, too, and it’s been the way of hunting societies since time immemorial.
If this is the situation, I’ll struggle to see them as good parents for making that choice, but I must put that aside and ask instead “What if you could keep her?” What if we gave you what you needed to make it through the winter with an infant? If the answer is still no—that they are not ready for a child—then we’ll take her.
If they want Abby, I’ll still bring Sidra back to Rockton to ensure she is her mother. How much of that is healthy caution and how much is a secret hope that we can keep Abby? I don’t know, and I’m afraid to analyze. I do know that I will not stand between these parents and their child.
It’s late morning by the time we reach the area, about five kilometers past where we found Abby. Before Sidra left, she told Felicity that this would be a good area to live, where they had camped and hunted and fished with Baptiste and others from both settlements. Sidra framed it as an offhand conversation.
Hey, you know that spot where we all camped last summer? That’d be a good place to live, don’t you think? Not that I’m planning to run away and fake my own death so I can be with my beloved or anything like that …
Clearly it’d been a hint. A plea even. Like giving an estranged friend your new phone number, in case they find that jacket you left at their apartment once.
If you want me, you know where to find me.
The place is a river valley with abundant game and fresh water and mountain shelter. While that sounds like a settler’s paradise—and therefore, it should already be occupied—it is only one spot in a thousand just like it out here. It’s just a matter of picking the one that suits you best. Like pioneers heading west and choosing their plot of land. The possibilities stretch to the horizon.
When the pioneers headed west, they each got a hundred and sixty acres. Out here, a settler can “claim” even more. There is no actual claim, of course. Anyone can hunt or fish or walk through your territory, and challenging them on it would be pointless. The territory this couple have staked out is huge, so they won’t rush to find exactly the right spot to build a permanent home—perhaps one for summer and one for winter. The upshot is that we’re talking a general area at least couple of kilometers, and that’s not easy to search.
We split up. Dalton assigns me Storm and Petra, and he sends us to check flat and open areas along the river. Meanwhile Felicity knows a half dozen spots where they camped over the years, and she’ll show those to Dalton.
We’ve been searching for over an hour when our paths cross and Dalton asks to take Storm. While he wanted her with me for protection, she’s better sniffing those old campsites to see if she can pick up a scent.
Petra and I continue hunting along the river. She’s been quiet, but now she says, “I heard you brought Maryanne to town.”
I grunt a nonreply.
“Did you get any answers from her?” she asks. “About what the hostiles are, how they came to be?”
I bend and check what looks like a boot print in well-trampled snow.
“I know you thought the council was responsible for them,” she says. “Did you find anything to support that?”
If she said it with even a hint of mockery, I wouldn’t answer. But her tone sounds genuinely curious … with a hint of trepidation. Is that fear I’ll uncover the truth? Or fear that there is a connection?
Her gaze shutters, giving me nothing.
I consider. Then I say, “Tea.”
Her brow furrows. “What?”
I twist, still hunkered down. “The hostiles consume a narcotic and a hallucinogenic tea. Same as the Second Settlement, who seem to use the latter for something that seems almost like prehistoric rituals.”