Sun sparkled through the cabin windows and fell across the scraps of shiny green paper on Naomi’s kitchen table. The dogs were outside exploring the thick fall of fresh snow, and Ares was taking advantage of Hades’ absence to wallow in Naomi’s attentions. He wound around and around her ankles, purr rising and falling like a cantankerous motor. When that failed, he jumped up on the table and flopped right in the middle of her craft project, gazing at her with slitted eyes, a rajah demanding adulation. Naomi chuckled and tickled his nose with a scrap of paper. He batted at it lazily, then offered his soft tummy for rubbing, which she obliged.
“I’d call you spoiled, but your life isn’t exactly Fancy Feast and silk cushions these days, is it?”
Ares just stretched and purred louder. Naomi figured she had about 20 more seconds before he decided that was more than enough affection and closed his claws around her wrist – such was the way of cats – so she relaxed into the moment, enjoyed the warm bond of connection with him, the way the sun glinted off the metallic green paper strips she was looping into a chain, and the smell of the fresh pine boughs she’d brought in to soften the mantel. In small moments of joy, she had learned, sanity was found.
Their time was cut short when Hades bounded through the dog door, whining with a combination of excitement and anxiety. Naomi swung around to look at him, and frowned when Persephone didn’t immediately follow. She reached for his perceptions with her mind, but didn’t have time to complete the link before the door opened. Martin stepped in, stomping off snow, Persephone tucked in the crook of his arm. In his hand dangled a dead rabbit, but his attention was fixed on the little dog.
“She’s hurt.” He didn’t greet Naomi, didn’t even look up when he spoke. “There’s something wrong with her back right leg.” His tone was calm, but frantic worry radiated off him. He stepped up to the table, shoved aside the decorations she had been making, and set Persephone down.
Naomi’s brain went in five directions at once. What was he doing here? Her eyes flew to Macy’s open door. Should she go shut it? Could he see in from where he was standing? She sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to prioritize. First things first.
She stepped to take the rabbit from Martin’s hand and gave it to Hades along with a silent command to take it outside. Hades obeyed, bounding back through the dog door with greedy glee; whatever was going on with Persephone, he didn’t seem too concerned. Naomi ran her hands over the little dog, looking for the source of her distress. “I don’t understand – how did you find her? What happened?”
“I was on my way here,” Martin said, eyes fixed on Naomi’s hands. “You didn’t answer your radio, and I wanted to check on you, talk through some things. I was almost here when…” His voice trailed off for a moment. He took a step back, and ran his hands up over the top of his head, peeling his ski cap off with the motion. Under the cap, his short, dark hair glinted with strands of silver in the sun. He ran his hands over his head again, and Naomi frowned. She had never seen him so agitated.
“When what? What’s the matter?”
He made eye contact then, for the first time, and in his dark eyes, wonder shone. His gaze dropped to Persephone again. “She connected with me. At least I think she did. All of a sudden, it was like the world wobbled, and I could see and feel what she was feeling. I could feel that she was hurt, and where.”
Naomi’s hands stilled, and a stab of jealousy rendered her breathless for a moment. She was proud of her even tone when she spoke. “Well, that’s not a huge surprise, I guess. She’s very attached to you.” But why hadn’t she linked with Naomi? She looked down at Persephone, who was panting and whining softly, eyes glued to Martin. Her hands started moving again, and she found the source of Persephone’s pain: Her hip was dislocated. She had probably taken a bad kick from the dying rabbit.
“We need to get her to a vet.” She grimaced. “Scratch that. We need to see if Rowan can help. If not Rowan, maybe Ignacio knows how to –”
“Let me see.” Martin stepped close and his hands nudged hers aside. A frown of concentration creased his forehead, and his eyes went unfocused, though Naomi could feel the intensity of his focus on Persephone. Naomi watched his hands travel carefully over the dog’s back leg, probing gently when he reached the injury. Persephone yelped softly, but her eyes stayed fixed on Martin in complete trust.
“Be careful, injured dogs can bite.” Namoi turned away, hurrying to collect the things they would need for the trip into town. “Let me get a blanket for her, and we can –”
Another sharp yelp from Persephone made her spin back around. Martin shushed the little dog, soothing her with gentle strokes from head to tail. He took a step back from the table, and Persephone rose. She seemed to test her back leg for a moment, then trotted the length of the table, following Martin’s retreat. When she reached the end of the table, he scooped her up before she could jump into his arms.
“I think that took care of it.”
Naomi stepped to take Persephone from him, cradling her to her chest and closing her eyes in relief when the little dog finally connected with her. She basked for a moment in the love, love, love, then opened her eyes to gaze at Martin. “How did you know to do that? Were you a medic?”
“The Marines don’t have medics – the Navy takes care of that. But I’ve had some basic medical training.” He looked down at Persephone. “Mostly, I just let her body tell me what to do.” His eyes rose, again filled with awe. “I just connected with her and she knew what was wrong. She knows her body, and could tell me by feeling when my hands did the right thing. I could tell the bone wasn’t broken and how to move the joint.”
Naomi dredged up a smile. “If we could get people to do that, for themselves and each other, it would take a lot of pressure off Rowan. We need to tell her about this.”
“True.” Now that the crisis was past, their usual awkwardness settled in. Martin cleared his throat and looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry I barged in like that – I was so worried about her. I tracked snow all over your floor.”
“It’s fine. The dogs do it all the time.” She glanced at Macy’s open door, wondering how she could walk by him casually to close it. At least his back was to it. “Did you come on a snowmobile? I didn’t hear one.”
“No, I rode Ben. He’s tethered outside. Ignacio wanted to see how he’d handle the deeper snow drifts, and he said Ben was missing you.” Martin almost smiled – a corner of his mouth actually twitched up. “I, ah, think I get that a little better now.”
Naomi’s eyes flickered to Macy’s door again. It would be too strange, draw too much attention, to walk all the way across the room to shut it. From the depths, the old Naomi rose to offer hospitality. “Can I get you a cup of tea or something to eat?”
“You have tea? Black tea? With caffeine?”
Naomi shook her head regretfully. “Not anymore. I went through it when the coffee ran out. Just herbal.” She walked over and handed Persephone to him. “Have a seat and I’ll get it. Peach or cinnamon apple?”
“Peach, please,” he answered. He sat at the table, and focused on the scraps of paper, the bright chain she’d been making, the shamrocks she’d already cut. His eyes lifted to scan the room, taking in the pine boughs on the mantle, then fixed on her and narrowed. “What’s all this?”
“Oh, you know.” She couldn’t stand it any longer. Moving with what she hoped was nonchalance, she walked to shut Macy’s door, allowing herself a quiet sigh of relief when it was done. She turned back, not meeting his gaze, and set about getting his tea. “Just cheering the place up for St. Patrick’s day. You said peach, right?”
Martin didn’t answer. Naomi looked up, and he was staring at Macy’s door speculatively. Her heart rate kicked up a notch. “Would you like a muffin, too? I just made them yesterday – I’m almost out of flour, so I used some canned pinto beans to augment, and I think they came out good, even if they’re not a very pretty color…” Her voice was too high-pitched and she was talking too fast. She took another deep breath and took it down a notch. “You said you wanted to talk about some things? What’s on your mind?”
Martin looked away from Macy’s door, but Naomi’s relief was short-lived.
“You know I can tell when someone is lying or hiding something.”
Not a question. “Yes.” She felt her mind start to scrabble. Could he be fooled? She’d read once that some people could fool a polygraph machine. If she could make herself believe that she had nothing to hide, would that throw him off the scent? “Did you say you wanted a muffin?”
He just gazed at her, and she could feel his probing. Her temper kicked in, then, and she was just about to call him on it when he backed off. “Sure. A bean muffin sounds interesting.”
Relief again. What a roller coaster. Naomi set about making tea and getting him a muffin, feeling suddenly exhausted. She didn’t try to fill the silence with polite small talk, as the old Naomi would have. Honestly, she didn’t think she had any of those old social skills left in her. Not now, maybe not ever again.
And she’d bet some serious money that Martin had never had so much as a drop of “polite” in him. He said what he thought, bluntly, without trying to soften it out of consideration for the other person’s feelings. On the flip side of that, though, he never embellished or exaggerated. You always knew where you stood with Martin, which was frequently painful and reassuring at the very same time.
Scott hadn’t been one to play passive-aggressive games or be dishonest, but Naomi knew he had often maintained his silence rather than upset her. At the time she had appreciated his tender care of her feelings. She had trusted his judgment, trusted him to share with her what she needed to know. But those times were not these times. She couldn’t afford to be crippled by her sensitivity, any more than she could rely on Martin to shield her from the ugliness in the world, the way Scott had.
She set a mug of tea down in front of him, then brought him a muffin on a little tin plate with a cloth napkin tucked beside it. He snorted softly. “Very fancy. Still so civilized.”
Her temper, which hadn’t really subsided, rumbled again. “It’s not about being ‘civilized.’ It’s just…” How in the world to explain this to him? Should she even bother? Could he understand? “There’s no reason to not make it nice. It pleases my eye. It makes me feel better. Cozy.” She plunked a mug down for herself, harder than she needed to, and sat down. She glared at the steam rising from her tea, rather than look up to see the disdain on his face. “Just forget it.”
“As you wish.”
Naomi gritted her teeth at the mockery in his tone and took a scalding sip of tea. “What did you need to talk about?”
“I came to ask you, one last time, to reconsider this plan.”
Well, there it was. Out there and blunt. So Martin. Well, she could be blunt, too. “No.”
Martin acted as if he hadn’t heard her. “I’m going to run through this one last time. If Piper is alive – and I do believe that you can feel that – she will head here. You’re sure of that. It makes no sense for you to go looking for her. It’s an unnecessary risk, and this community needs you.”
“Well, that was admirably calm and persuasive. Have you been getting coaching from Jack?” She heard Piper’s voice, cutting and sarcastic, come out of her own mouth. “I understand the logic of the arguments as both you and Jack have presented them. I even agree on some points. But here’s the point you both seem to have trouble grasping –”
She leaned forward, and hit him with the full force of her will, her desire, her need. God, it was gratifying to see him start back, to see his eyes widen. “I have to go. I have to. If I sit here and wait, I will either lose my sanity or –” Unexpectedly, grief rolled over her head like a tsunami, choking her, making her gasp for air. She fought for control, but couldn’t stop her voice from shaking. “Or I will die. I’m sorry for the melodrama, but I don’t know how else to say it.”
Martin remained leaning back, and though he no longer looked surprised, there was something different in his eyes, something that almost looked like admiration. “That is some punch you pack, lady. Where have you been hiding that?”
Naomi sipped her tea again, hiding her embarrassment behind the genteel gesture. “I apologize. I know we’re teaching the kids not to do that.”
“See, there’s the problem.” Martin leaned forward, and she felt the power of his will. “You worry about stuff like that. Apologies. What you’re ‘supposed’ to do. You claim you’re not worried about being ‘civilized,’ but Naomi, you are civilized to the bone. I know you saw some hard things on your way here, and I know you handled yourself. But you have no idea. What we’ve got going on here in Woodland Park is incredible, but I guarantee it’s the exception, not the rule. The ugliness that we would see–” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I would spare you that. I’m asking you to spare yourself that.”
“And all this time, I thought you were worried about the chubby housewife physically making the trip. How ironic.” Her lips twitched, though not in amusement. “Which is it that you don’t think is strong enough? My heart or my mind?”
“Neither.”
They stared at each other across that abyss for long moments. Naomi refused to indulge the hurt indignation she was feeling by responding with a Piper-sharp retort, though she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing the center of her chest to soothe her heart. His honesty hurt. But she had asked. Finally, she folded her hands around her mug of tea and groped her way forward.
“My pride is not going to let me sit here and try to convince you. I still have some of that left.” She paused again, thinking, and decided she had nothing to lose by laying it all out. “I can’t promise you anything. I can’t guarantee I won’t see or experience something that I can’t handle. But here’s the thing: If I’m not a wife and mother, I have no idea who I am. A mother does whatever she needs to, whatever it takes. When Macy died,” she swallowed down the tightness that rose from her chest to her throat. “I took the next breath for Piper. It’s not that I want to go. It’s that I can’t do anything else.”
He didn’t speak for the longest time. They sat in silence, but this time, the silence was a thoughtful one, rather than uncomfortable. The fire rustled softly, and Hades came in from outside, making a beeline for Naomi. He pressed against her, smelling of the cold and the fresh, raw meat of the rabbit he had consumed. Naomi slid her hands over his head, returning the pure love he always, always greeted her with. Her generous boy.
Martin’s resignation and acceptance preceded his words. “I had decided that if I couldn’t get you to agree, I would just sneak away and leave you behind. I kept trying to tell myself it would be for the best, that you wouldn’t be crazy enough to go on your own.” He sighed. “But you’ve convinced me of one thing: You are most certainly crazy enough.”
Naomi’s lips twitched again, but this time, it was in amusement. “I am. Thanks for noticing.”
“Yep.” He picked up his muffin and took a bite, then made a sound of surprise. “These did turn out good. Beans, you said?”
“Yep.” She mimicked. For the first time in the longest time, she felt easy around him, as if they’d reached an agreement. Then, his eyes turned to Macy’s door. He nodded towards it.
“What’s in there?”
When his eyes returned to her, she felt the sharp edge of his scrutiny. He was feeling for her honesty. Well, she’d be damned if she’d give him another reason to think she was nuts, not after they’d made some progress here. She thought about the food, the dried goods and cans she’d been slowly gathering from the surrounding, abandoned cabins, which she’d been stacking along the wall of the cool bedroom. She smiled sweetly.
“Storage.”
To her surprise, he grinned. “Atta girl. Don’t let anyone bully you, least of all me.” He rose. “I need to get going. Do you want to come out and see Ben before I leave?”
“I do.” As she slid into her coat and boots, she watched Persephone dance around Martin’s feet. “She’s moving well, but I’ll keep an eye on her. Unfortunately, once that hip has been dislocated, it’s more likely to happen again. My husband’s dog, Zeus, dislocated his three times. He was a black lab. They’re prone to hip problems.”
“Hmm.” Martin scooped Persephone up, and ran his hand over her tiny haunch. “What happened to Zeus? Why isn’t he with you, too?”
Naomi remembered cold, silky ears, and a stiffly curled corpse. She swallowed. “He died. When Scott did. I always felt like he chose to go with him.”
Martin’s eyes lifted to hers. “Your husband’s name was Scott?”
“Yes.”
Martin gazed at her, then took a deep breath. “My wife was named Isabella.” He swallowed, too. “My son was called Michael, for my wife’s grandfather.”
Naomi nodded and dropped her gaze, feeling her face warm. So this was intimacy, in this new age: Naming your dead. “Thank you for telling me.”
They stepped outside, and Ben immediately nickered a greeting. Naomi went to him, stepping to his left side, the way she had learned he preferred to be approached. She ran her hand down the curve of his neck, and leaned against his shoulder. In response, he curled his head around her, blowing softly. Naomi closed her eyes and felt her heart open and expand with love for him. “I missed you too, big guy. It’s so good to see you.”
“There’s one more thing I need to say, Naomi.”
Naomi opened her eyes but didn’t move, watching Martin from the warm curve of Ben’s body. He returned her gaze steadily, absently rubbing a gloved finger around Persephone’s ears, and once again, she felt his resignation. Naomi sighed. “Why am I certain I don’t really want to hear this?”
As he had before, he ignored her words, pressing forward with his own agenda. “I won’t ask you again to stay behind, but I will ask you to prepare mentally, before we go. In the Marines, we ran through mental dress rehearsals, talked through some of the scenarios we were likely to face. Our job was to think through these scenarios and rehearse what we would do, in our heads. My CO used to say, ‘Win in the mind first.’ I want you to do that.”
Naomi absorbed comfort from Ben’s body, and nodded. “That seems reasonable.”
“All right.” His voice took on a teaching cant. “First, you need to be able to handle it if something happens to one of the animals. They could die or be so badly injured we’d have to leave them behind. We might not be able to take the time to put them down, and they could suffer. You need to be able to break the link, if that happens, or it will cripple you.”
Just the thought made her heart clutch and stutter, but she kept her gaze steady on his. “I’ll think that through. What else?”
“We’ve been lucky here. People started working together right from the start, and we had enough resources to get our people through the first winter. We haven’t experienced either deprivation or desperation – not yet, anyway. I guarantee there are places where they aren’t doing as well as we are.” He turned his head, and his eyes focused on something far away. “I can’t predict exactly what we’ll find, but there are a few common features of any society that has broken down: people killing each other over basic resources; senseless crimes, looting, vandalism; rape, of both women and children.” His eyes returned to hers. “We are likely to see these things. And we’re not going to be able to help. Not if we want to find our kids. You need to be able to walk away. Can you do that?”
Naomi remembered waking in the night, so long ago, the sensation of being choked, the certainty that Piper was in trouble, terrible trouble. She frowned, and replied honestly, though she was sure these weren’t the words he wanted to hear. “Piper… I woke one night, and I could tell she was…” She swallowed, “Probably being attacked. Raped.” She gazed into Martin’s eyes. “I could be wrong, of course. It could have just been a bad dream. But it raises an important question. What if someone could have helped her, and didn’t? What if they told themselves to walk away? We’re both looking for our daughters, praying they’re alive and okay, praying they have someone to look out for them. What if we see someone else’s daughter who needs help? How can we walk away from that?”
Martin took a deep breath, and looked up at the sky for a moment. Naomi was sure she heard him mutter, “Son of a bitch,” under his breath, but his eyes, when he returned them to hers, were patient. “I’m not saying it won’t be hard. That’s why I want you to think all of this through. We need to execute a very specific objective: Find our children and bring them back to safety. If we let other objectives get in the way of that, even if they’re altruistic and humane, we will fail.”
It was Naomi’s turn to gaze at the sky. She pondered for a few minutes in silence, then sighed. “I may need to be reminded of that one. But I agree. Anything else?”
“One more thing.” He paused. “If we get into trouble, run into the wrong people, you could end up facing that scenario. Rape. They might use coercion, threaten violence to one of the animals or me, or just use brute force. If that happens, you need to submit, especially if we’re outnumbered. Play dead, go limp, try not to cry or fight.”
Naomi’s face colored. “Is that the Marine version of, ‘Lie back and think of England?’ Or should I plan what color to paint the ceiling?”
Martin snorted out a laugh that surprised them both. “Jesus, Naomi. Just when I think you wouldn’t say ‘shit’ if you had a mouthful.” He shook his head, and returned to his topic. “The important thing is that you can’t disassociate. If you do, you lose control over what you think and do. You have to stay with the program enough to see opportunities for escape. If I’m dead or unable to help you for whatever reason, you’ll need to get yourself out. I meant it, when I said this community needs you.”
“No more than they need you.” Ben knocked her in the shoulder with his nose and shifted restlessly. She pushed his head back firmly, and reminded him via a mental nudge where the lines were. He chuffed, apologetic and impatient at the same time. “I think this big guy has had about enough chit-chat. And you’ve given me plenty to think about.”
“All right. You’ve got a couple of weeks to ponder. When we hit mid-March, if the weather holds clear and Jose’s knee gives us the go-ahead, we’ll head out for Divide, then Cripple Creek. We’ll check for survivors, see if we can scavenge anything, and make sure we’ve got our gear all settled in.”
It was all suddenly so real, and she was suddenly breathless. Then she remembered walking into the wilderness with Macy with only what she could carry on her back, the terror of that first step. By contrast, riding out with Martin for a trial run camping trip/scouting expedition felt like a weekend excursion.
“Jose’s knee hasn’t failed us yet. I swear, he’s more accurate than the forecasters used to be.” She untied Ben’s reins from the post he’d been hitched to, and walked him towards Martin. “I’ll be ready.”
“Good. Answer your radio next time.” He deposited Persephone into her arms and took Ben’s reins from her, mounting the horse with a smoothness she still hadn’t achieved. “And thanks for the muffin.”
Naomi shaded her eyes and looked up at him. “You’re welcome. Thank you for bringing Persephone in. She would have hurt herself worse, trying to get home.”
Martin just nodded and swung Ben’s head around. He trotted towards the edge of the clearing around Naomi’s cabin, then turned suddenly, making Ben dance a little. “One more thing: For the record, you are not a chubby housewife.”
This was said so flatly and matter-of-factly, it took a minute for the blush of self-consciousness to flood Naomi’s face. “Oh. Okay. Right.” For Pete’s sake, she thought. “Ah, I’m not sure why that matters, but thank you just the same.”
“It matters because you need to see yourself clearly and understand your capabilities. You were fat and out of shape when I first met you. You still see yourself that way.”
Her face torched into crimson, equal parts irritation and embarrassment. “Well, thanks so much for that observation, Martin, I sure do appreciate it.”
“Christ on a crutch.” He muttered the words, but she heard them anyway. “I’m not trying to insult you or make you uncomfortable. You’re stronger and more fit now, that’s just a fact. It’s all part of understanding yourself, your strengths and weaknesses. You still see yourself as weak, and you’re not. You’ve hiked all over this area. Hell, you could probably walk me into the ground. So you can stuff the sarcasm – I’m just telling it like it is, not trying to flatter my way into your pants.”
So much for the truce they had achieved. “Martin, right now, I am marveling that you ever talked a woman out of her clothes,” Did she really just say that? “Much less got two of them to marry you.” She turned back to the cabin, sending him on his way with a disgusted wave. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
She heard the retreating crunch of Ben’s hooves on the snow as they headed into the woods, and resisted the urge to turn and watch, muttering her litany of complaints to the attentive, sympathetic dogs. “Jerk. Idiot. Moron.” Those didn’t satisfy. “Numbskull. Dolt.” Better, but, “Jackass!” There it was.
She made it half an hour, by her estimation, before she stomped into her bedroom, made sure the curtains were shut, stripped down to her underwear – baggy granny panties and a tattered, greying tank top – and was momentarily overcome by a desperate longing for a huge glass of wine. She took a deep breath and ditched the underwear as well, then stood in front of the mirror, grimacing at what she saw.
The soft, ample curves she’d always hated and Scott had always loved were gone. Time and life had not been kind to this poor old body, she thought, eyeing the sags, the stretch marks, the tired skin. She took another step closer to the mirror, and saw muscles flex in her legs. She lifted her arms and tightened them experimentally. Loose skin hung from her triceps where plump mama-arms used to be, but Martin was right about one thing: She was stronger, underneath the droop. Almost scrawny, more than a little scary, but definitely stronger.
It made her unspeakably sad, right down to her very bones. Since Piper’s birth, she had battled her weight. She was always either on a diet or planning to go on a diet. Scott had ridden that roller-coaster the way Scott did everything, with good-natured tolerance. He had eaten cabbage soup and lean, dry chicken breasts without complaint, obliged her without a word of judgment when a Sunday-afternoon craving led them to Culver’s frozen custard, and every possible variation in between. The only constant through those years had been his unwavering love for her, no matter what she weighed. Under the warm slide of his hands, her body became beautiful, always, every time. She felt like she had lost the last vestiges of his touch, the last traces of his lovemaking on her skin, along with her curves. She ran her hands over her much-smaller breasts and unfamiliar hips, and swallowed hard. Would he even recognize her now?
She lifted her eyes to her face and really looked, for the first time since Macy’s death. The loss of her baby was there, written in lines around her eyes and mouth. Skin that had once been pampered with weekly facials had weathered to an uneven, wind-reddened brown. Her hair was longer, and almost completely silver at the roots, just a few gold strands mixed in with the grey now. She was 43 years old, and she looked like a crone. Would Piper even know her own mother when they were reunited?
“Bah!” She dashed the tears off her cheeks angrily. “Quite the pity party you’ve got going on here.”
But she couldn’t deny the anger she was feeling. Sags and all, she would have relished showing off a slimmer version of herself to Scott. She felt cheated, like she’d lost an opportunity she could never regain. She grumped her way back into her saggy underwear and too-big jeans, then crossed her arms over her bare breasts and scurried for Macy’s room, where Piper’s cabin clothes were still stored.
“Hi, honey.” She never entered this room without greeting her daughter’s corpse. “I just want to try something. This could be a waste of time, but…”
They fit. The underwear and the jeans. Naomi honestly couldn’t decide how to feel, elated or enraged. Her mind, as ever, decided on the practical set. It would be nice to not have to deal with the discomfort of shifty underwear and jeans cinched up with a belt. The chill in the room seeped into her skin, and she rummaged for a sweatshirt. The faintest trace of Piper’s perfume still clung to the fabric, and she pressed it to her face, closing her eyes and breathing deep.
She left Macy’s room and moved around the cabin for a while doing chores, half her focus on feeding the dogs and bringing in more wood, the other half on settling into her new skin. Piper’s clothes felt good, streamlined and efficient. Maybe, in wearing them, she would absorb some of her daughter’s warrior spirit. The thought made her smile.
She hesitated when faced with the craft project she’d begun, which was still spread out on the table. She had intended the cheerful chain and shamrocks for Macy’s room. Just yesterday, she had taken down the garland made of pink and red paper hearts she’d draped over the window for Valentine’s Day. Naomi fingered the shiny green chain. She’d been so excited to unearth this paper in a forgotten drawer, but now she had to wonder if this activity was really the healthiest thing she could be doing with her time.
“You know what?” She plopped down and snipped a new strip for the chain, waving it at Ares, who was giving her a bored stare from across the room. “We’re going to go with, ‘Who gives a rip?’ on this one.”
By God, if there wasn’t room for beauty and lovingly hung decorations in the future, she didn’t want any part of it. No, she corrected herself, as she placed a precise drop of glue on the end of her paper strip and looped it through its neighbor. She’d make room for the things that mattered to her. The monotony of the craft soothed her, as did the simple achievement of watching the chain grow. When she had used up the last of the paper, she had a six-foot-long chain, and the cabin was growing dark. She left the chain to dry and slid into her coat, stepping outside into the twilight.
The day had been warm, and the air was soft and moist with melted snow. Naomi headed for the ridge at the edge of the clearing, her favorite spot for watching the sunset. The dogs had followed her out – they always did – and ranged around her now, endlessly sniffing. She reached out for Hades’ perceptions, and marveled at how rich the twilight became when she connected with him. The clearing brightened, but the colors flattened out; layers of sound and scent bloomed like flowers, and a parade of the animals who’d been through their clearing that day started to flicker like a slideshow: fox, deer, magpie, more deer, and, oh, a coyote. That was new.
Winter sunsets in the Rockies could be spectacular, but this one was understated and soft – faded golds bleeding out to rosy purples and soft blues on the edges. Naomi reached the top of the ridge and folded her arms around herself, hugging her coat close against the rising wind. She tilted her face up, letting the colors soak into her eyes and brush over her skin. In her center, the place that spun and whirled with tasks and worries slowly wound down into peaceful stillness. She took a deep, deep breath of air and let it out slowly.
Just over her left shoulder, a low croak made her smile and turn. “You again. I thought maybe you’d deserted us.”
On one of the lower branches of a towering pine, a huge raven cocked his head, watching her with his bright black eyes. He croaked again, as if in reply, and side-stepped a little closer. Naomi had learned to not reach out to any wild animal, especially ones that’d had extensive contact with humans; they just startled and fled. This fellow, though, was different. She couldn’t initiate a link, as she did with Hades, but if she was patient…
And there he was, his curiosity probing along the edges of her awareness. As always, she was struck by his intelligence – he was easily as smart as the dogs – but his mind felt completely different. He was young, a juvenile, still fascinated by anything new, a conclusion she’d reached by comparing him to some of the other ravens she’d encountered on her rambles as well as a strong, sure knowing – he just felt young. In spite of his youth, there was a canniness about him, a cagey, opportunistic edge to his mind. He’d brushed her awareness too many times to count in just this way, and she’d learned to relax and let him poke around. If she reached out or tried to strengthen the connection, he took offense and flew off, croaking his indignation.
She smiled again, let her heart warm the tentative connection between them, then turned back to watch the sunset. Without warning, the sky exploded into brilliant color, the myriad hues of the sunset fracturing into thousands of shades she had never seen before. She gasped, hardly able to comprehend what she was seeing, struggling for words to label the experience. Psychedelic came the closest. She glanced at the raven, who was regarding her intently. He had initiated a full connection between them, and to her amazement, he wasn’t fleeing the contact. She swung her eyes back to the sunset, and felt emotion roll up from her chest into her throat. She had never seen such beauty. The tears that filled her eyes faceted too many colors to count.
Another blink and it was over. Naomi sniffled and wiped at her eyes, then looked back up at the raven. He side-stepped a few feet away, but didn’t fly off. Not indignant this time, just even more curious. She smiled at him and again let her heart warm the tentative link they still shared.
“Well, pal, I have to say that was one spectacular gift. That clinches it. You need a name.”
He cocked his head and clicked his beak at her. Naomi sorted through her knowledge of ravens and Greek gods, but only came up with an association with Apollo. Maybe it was time to branch off into new territory. “Well, let’s see. Odin, if I’m not mistaken, was often depicted with ravens on either shoulder. ‘Odin’ might be a good name – or ‘Loki,’ because I get the feeling you are definitely a trickster.” That was it, she was sure of it. “’Loki’ it is. Welcome to the family.”
The newly-christened Loki croaked again, then launched into the deepening night, his wings making an almost musical creaking sound in the still forest. Naomi watched him go, then looked down at the dogs. Hades had curled up in the snow with Persephone tucked in the curve of his body, and both were dozing. “C’mon, you two. Time to call it a day.”
She thought about Loki through her evening chores, wondered what else she’d learn about him as the days went on – what she wouldn’t give for the chance to Google ravens – and wondered as well what his contact had been with humans, that he seemed so interested in her and willing to interact. She went in and wished Macy a goodnight, promising to put up the decorations she’d made in the morning, then curled up in bed with the dogs and Ares snuggled around her in their customary positions. Finally, as always, she called Piper.
Or at least, that was how she thought of it. Eyes closed, she breathed deeply, feeling her heart open and expand, seeking the connection that kept her going day after day. It was there, strong and steady tonight, her own personal ley line pointing straight at her daughter. Due north. Every time. Naomi concentrated, and with every bit of focus she possessed, sent love and encouragement through the connection, imagining her mother-love cloaking her girl in white light and protection. She smiled in the darkness. Layla’s new-agey ways had definitely rubbed off on her a bit. After a few minutes, she relaxed the connection, though she never let it go altogether. Never.
“Soon,” she whispered, as sleep took her into its deepening spiral. “Soon, Piper. I promise.”