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Macy’s stomach rumbled. Mama appeared out of the water carrying a mouthful of fish. The babies danced in circles, following her until she unleashed her haul and set them loose on devouring it. Macy didn’t particularly like fish, especially raw, but hunger tempted her. The pups would probably share. They’d all gotten on quite well as they waited in this tiny grotto.
Food she could do without. She knew that. It was drink that she worried about. Without any of the skills or kit necessary for purifying her water, she’d been at least sifting it through her t-shirt before drinking from the lake. She had no idea if that was sufficient, but even if she drank up some sort of amoeba or something, surely it would be preferable to dying of thirst. In the grotto, there was no rain, the canopy above shielding them entirely from the outside world, so Macy made do with what she had. The thought of going out there into the woods, especially after the bullets, frightened her enough to stay put.
Macy didn’t know the otters particularly well, but Mama seemed sluggish and lethargic, mostly sleeping while the pups played themselves to sleep. Papa hadn’t come back, and Macy feared the worst. These creatures were huge, and maybe they could take a few bullets without going down, but surely he’d have come back by now.
She’d have to leave. She knew that. No one could possibly find her in this grotto, and if she didn’t leave, she’d starve or die of thirst. She told herself that Abby wouldn’t shoot her, but Macy remembered all too well being held captive and didn’t want to repeat that either. Though, if Abby got her mark, maybe she’d left. Maybe the forest was safe again. Miriam was still out there somewhere. She wouldn’t leave Macy behind.
Macy stood.
Now was as good a time as any to strike out. Sure, there were things to fear out there, but nothing worse than she’d already been through. She pulled up her arms and looked at the faint scars there. After Hogg Run, looking at them brought tears, but now she’d learned to use them for strength, as potent reminders that she could survive more than she thought—that she was stronger than she believed.
For months after, she’d worn long sleeve shirts and pants, sure that anyone who saw all the scars would shrink away from her, but now... now she wore a short-sleeved shirt that even showed off a bit of midriff. The scars on her bare leg were even larger and scarier, but she had barely given them a second thought. She’d come so far. She could do this, too.
She watched the pups devouring their fish buffet, then looked over at Mama. The monstrous otter looked at Macy, their eyes locked. Macy didn’t know if a bigger animal meant a bigger brain. She didn’t know what Mama could understand or see. Macy needed to go find her people, just like Mama needed to be with her own.
“I’m gonna go,” Macy said. “I need to find Miriam.”
Mama’s ears twitched and her pupils dilated, as if she wanted to understand the words but couldn’t quite make sense of them. It didn’t matter. Macy moved towards the small hole leading out to the forest, wondering if she’d be able to push through without Mama’s help. The pups chittered and chirped behind her, nearly done with their meal and just noticing that Macy was on the move.
“I’ll miss you guys,” Macy said, turning to look one last time. The pups trotted towards her, the larger of the two nipping at the leg of her jeans. Macy laughed and leaned down, stroking the pup across the head. Mama made a strange sound almost like a groan, but made no move to stop her. After petting the other pup, Macy gently pushed the larger away and turned to leave—for good.
She found the hole, got down on all fours and crawled through, surprised how easy the trail actually was despite looking completely and utterly grown over.
Before long she was out into the forest again. As she stood, panic set in. Something was off. Something was nearby. She scanned the foliage around her waiting to see something, anything, but came up with nothing.
Just nerves, Macy.
She took a step forward, stopped. Listened. Something rustling. Something rumbling.
Papa!
He came through the brush slowly, his back arching with each step. She rushed to him, but he backed away and growled, baring yellowed teeth. Macy swallowed hard. He was hurt. She could see blood. Bullet wounds. Even though she couldn’t have done anything to stop what had happened, she felt somehow responsible just by virtue of having been present.
“It’s me,” she whispered, as if she could talk down an angry monster.
Papa rushed past her, giving her a wide berth, and buried himself into the wall of foliage, where he began inching his way towards the grotto.
Macy bit her lip. She’d been so sure that striking out to find Miriam was the right choice, but she worried for Papa. What if he needed help?
Reluctantly, she headed back.
