“The water will help with that,” said Arie. She scooped a big double handful of acorns and dropped them into the pail. Most of them sank, but five or six bobbed on the surface. “The floaters are no good. Toss them.” She skimmed out the worm-eaten nuts and flipped them into the fire. “The sinkers are likely whole. Put them in the keep pile.”
Renna fished the good nuts out of the bucket and scooped another batch from the tow sack. “That’s a lot faster,” she said.
Arie chuffed. “It’s the only fast part of the whole shebang. We’ll have to do quite a bit more to make them edible.”
They’d brought a decent pile of firewood inside to keep dry; she picked through until she found a heavy chunk of hardwood the diameter of her forearm. She squatted by the fire next to Renna, the growing pile of edible nuts between them. One of the larger fire-stones had a flat top, and Arie patted it, checking for heat. The outside edge and level surface were just warm to the touch. She lined several acorns across the top of the stone, grasped the piece of wood by its two ends, and brought it down hard. She picked out the meats, brushed the broken shells away, and set out another line to crack.
For a while there was nothing but the sound of their work—the pleasant rattle of acorns as Renna scooped them from the sack, the sharp crack of wood on stone—blending with the snap of the burning fire and the arrhythmic patter of rain outside the shelter. It was full dark now, and the fire threw their shadows against the rock wall so that two black giants looked hard at work behind them.
There was a low whistle in the woods. Before they could so much as turn their heads, Talus appeared, pressing her muzzle through the shelter opening. She angled her entire head inside, dark eyes glimmering in the firelight, furry face wet with rain. She blinked at Renna and Arie and panted convivially.
“Hey you,” Renna jumped up to pull the makeshift door aside. “Oh good, they’re back,” she said.
Curran had an arm around Handy, half dragging him up the hill to the shelter. They brought fresh chill and wet with them. With all six of them together and the door pulled shut, the rock walls seemed to close in. What felt cozy moments ago now hovered on the edge of claustrophobic.
“You look awful,” Renna told Handy. She grabbed the rough blanket they slept in and spread it around him. “God, you’re so cold.”
Arie could see the incipient hypothermia on him—the sluggish movements and the dazed expression on his normally clear and watchful face. “Strip him,” she told Renna, “and strip yourself. Get inside that blanket with him, skin-to-skin. I’ll boil water. Here.” She moved their acorn production off to one side, into a niche where the nutmeats would not be accidentally scattered. “Draw up close to the fire.”
Handy’s skin was fish-white and his feet and hands were going gray. Renna undressed again; the bite scars on her hip were wrinkled and shiny. She pulled Handy to her and they crouched as near to the fire as they could. Arie helped wrap the blanket snugly around them and crouched behind, rubbing Handy’s arms and back through the worn fabric.
Curran had slipped out of Arie’s woven carry basket and he bent to build up the fire, feeding in small pieces of wood to generate quick heat. He kept his eyes averted while Renna got naked. Close quarters and rough living wore the edge off the few social niceties they’d dragged with them into the post-Pink world. But they were family and offered each other what courtesies they could. Talus, meanwhile, had settled in a spot she preferred, the space between the fire and the matted door of their erstwhile home. She laid her muzzle on her forepaws with a weary sigh, but watched the four of them intently. Her ears remained upright, twitching now and then at small outside noises.
Arie gave the blanket a last firm pull around Handy and Renna and then positioned the pail of water in the fire so it sat squarely in the bed of coals. Random bits of forest debris floated on the surface. She flicked the larger needles and dead leaves into the fire, where they disappeared with small sizzles. From her pack she retrieved a pouch of nettles Handy had managed to salvage from the burned wreckage of Granny’s house. The plants were blanched and dried to knock back their sting, and she crumbled a handful into the simmering pail.
“Brother,” she said, stirring the nettles with a flat spurtle Handy had whittled for her a few days ago. “Are you with us?”
Handy, who had scarcely lifted his head since he’d stepped inside, nodded sluggishly. He was shivering now—a good sign, the body working to warm itself. “Here,” he said, a soft slur in his voice.
“Show me,” said Arie.
He raised his chin and looked her in the eye, blinking myopically. “Right here.”
“You took a wetting,” she said. “More than just the rain, it looks like.” They had a plastic mug—a lucky roadside find—and Arie ladled him some tea from the pail. “Take care,” she said, handing the mug to Renna. “That’s hot.”
Renna reached a bare arm from out of the blanket for the tea. She blew on it, took a tentative sip, and then held it for Handy to drink. He slurped at it and groaned low in his throat.
“Thank you,” he sighed.
She held the blanket closed with one hand and pushed the hair back from his forehead with the other, studying his face.
Curran hunkered nearby, hands extended to the flames. “I was almost at the bottom of the hill when I saw him. Talus found him first. She took off when we were on our way back, and when I caught up I found this guy with one arm around a tree and one arm around Talus’s neck.” The dog’s tail slapped the dirt twice at the mention of her name.
“I was there a while,” Handy said. It still cost him an effort to speak, but he was back in his body. He took another drink from the mug, a larger swallow, and sighed again. “I was trying to talk myself into climbing the hill.”
“And wetter by the second while you were at it,” Arie said.
“Couldn’t work out how to start,” said Handy. “I saw you come out for the bucket, Sister, but I’ll be damned if I could do anything but watch.”
“You took the dank hard,” she said.
“Aye.” He drank again, drained the cup this time. “It got in my head.”
“How’s that tea sitting in your belly?”
“Fair.”
“More?”
“A little.” As Arie refilled his mug, he looked at Curran. “Thanks for pulling me in. Next thing, I’d have been ripping my clothes off and wandering sideways.” He told them about his tumble into the creek, about missing his shot at the turkey. “Soaked myself good,” he said. “I’m all over mud, too.”
They were quiet for a moment, thinking—Arie imagined—of the turkey gone missing. “We have to find better shelter,” she said. The notion of Handy tracking witless through the trees while his core temperature dropped to irretrievable levels? It was unthinkable, and she shoved the idea away. “We’re pretty well hidden here,” she said, “but we need a true roof until this slop passes.”
“I might know a place,” said Curran. He looked excited.
“Where?” Renna sounded only half interested. Since taking to the woods two weeks ago, this space under the rocks was the only shelter they’d been able to cobble together in the rough.
“There’s a cabin. Small, but it looks to be solid.” He dragged the carry basket to him. “I got this stuff from a shed out behind it.”
“The cabin is empty, then?” said Arie.
“We didn’t go in. The thing is…” He rubbed his palms together; they made a brisk, sand-papery sound. “The thing is, I think someone might be there.”
“Do you say so?” said Arie. Her voice was mild, but she had gone still, steel-colored eyes fixed on him. “Were you seen?”