Red Moon Rising

27. distance

Chapter Song: Excalibur - PD Liddle

XX

"Where's Isaac?"

I find Sam in the cafeteria kitchen, blanching tomatoes in a rolling pot of water before ladling them into separate empty jars. He's been here nearly every morning in an attempt to store the last of their garden produce before winter. In the larder beyond the kitchen are rows and rows of wire shelves full of canned tomatoes, green beans, asparagus and beets, as well as tomato soup and chili. Sam has strung a few threads of wire between the shelves to hang braids of garlic and onions, and there are five-gallon buckets of potatoes and carrots tucked into a makeshift cold cellar at the far end of the little room. It fills me with a sort of delight and homesickness that is hard to hide from Sam, but he doesn't say anything. He's the kind of person who doesn't have to speak or prod you about your worries in order to make them go away; he just has to give you his particular look, a look that lets you know he understands exactly how you feel.

"Problem with a trespasser this morning. He's at the border." Sam gives me a sideways glance as I step next to him at the counter and begin coring the last of the tomatoes. "You don't have to do that, Layla."

"You're doing it."

"Yeah, but it's my job."

"Well Isaac never gave me a job, so I want to help you. Besides, I feel like you're still busy when everyone else is done with their work for the day."

He shrugs and watches me swirl a paring knife around the little brown stems. "I don't mind it."

"Is it okay if I help?"

I hear him breathe a laugh as he dumps a bowl of prepared tomatoes into the boiling water. "Of course. Thanks for thinking of it."

"So do you have problems with trespassers a lot?"

"More than you'd expect."

I was one myself, not long ago. It's strange to think how firmly my role has shifted to the other side of the border. It's strange to think how little of a role I have. At Rust Cove, the gardens were my responsibility. If I didn't plan them, order seeds, research, and constantly tend our fields, we would go hungry. Here, it's simply a nice gesture if I help with something. I've tried talking to Isaac about it but he refuses to give me work. There's a small voice in my head that says, to him, he is my work, and my shift begins when the day is done.

I don't view it that way; being with Isaac isn't remotely a chore. But it is my role in this place, and I can see that understanding on the faces of the other wolves. Maybe I'm more "Isaac's girl" than "Layla" anymore. It's not that anyone respects me less for it. On the contrary, I think there's a certain reservedness that most of the wolves use when interacting with me, especially when Isaac's around. It forces a distance that I don't know what to do with. In some ways, they're harder to understand than humans. They're all kind and warm to me, but I've come to understand it as a polite sort of warmth. Sam is the exception; I bet he knows exactly how it is with the other boys and I'll bet he knows how adrift it makes me feel at times. With Sam, I never question whether our moments are genuine, though like the other wolves he is always a little quieter, a little more uneasy, when Isaac is around.

"How have you been getting on here?"

"Okay," I say and Sam eyes me carefully. "I miss home. But I'm appreciative of everything you guys have done for me. I like it here."

"Have everything you need?"

"Yeah." I set my hands on the cool metal counter, an unexpected lurch of homesickness making me suck in a breath. "Do you think I could borrow your phone to call my sister, though? I didn't end things on a great note with her last time I talked."