“Okay then, more for us.” Isaac gave him a coaxing smile.

I hadn’t gotten a chance to see them together before I was taken. Back when Isaac only existed in Miig’s stories, they were the best couple I could imagine. Now, in person, they were everything I had imagined them being—loving, respectful complete; a goal I wanted to reach in my own life.

I felt Miig’s eyes on me as I spooned watery rice into my mouth, not tasting it. I refused to make eye contact.

“So, Wab, when’s the baby coming?” I tried to make conversation, to seem too busy to seek out my Elder.

“Whenever they damn well feel like it,” she sighed. “I’m ready now.”

“Not right now, though.” Chi Boy put a hand on her distended stomach as if offering instructions to the ears inside. “We need to get outta here first.”

“We had no idea that people were still able to procreate without help,” Mitch said, careless with his guard down.

“Who’s we?” Isaac asked.

Mitch lowered the spoon before he could shove the contents into his face. His eyes got wide. I put my bowl down. The clatter of the spoon against the rim was like a warning bell in the silence. All eyes on Mitch.

“Uh, just me and the guy I was traveling with…before. He was a doctor. So we talked a lot about medical stuff.”

“What happened to him?” Slopper asked, oblivious to the new tension.

“He died. An infection. Got hurt and it got dirty, and that was that.” Mitch was pulling the story together as he spoke. I wondered if anyone else noticed the odd pace of his words.

“Hmm. You’d think a doctor would have some supplies with him,” Isaac continued. “Or at least know how to avoid a simple infection.”

“Yeah, well, I never said he was a good one.” Mitch offered an awkward laugh.

Just then, Zheegwon slipped in from lookout, pulling the bow and quiver off his back. “Save some for me?”

“I’m going next.” I jumped up and grabbed the weapon from his hand. I had to leave now. I couldn’t lie, not one more untruthful word, and I still didn’t know how to solve this problem that affected all of us, so I fled.

“Wait, French.” Miig stepped toward me. “We need to talk.”

“Not now.” I kept walking. “I’m done eating, and I haven’t taken a turn yet.”

“French…”

“Later, Miigwans.” I took off at a jog, leaving Mitch to his story and the others to their skepticism and rice.

In a circle of pines, I found a tall maple covered in new vines, neon and muscular in their infancy. It took me longer than usual to scale the trunk. I was out of practice. But tearing at the green climbers and grunting through the flex, I made it to a branch high enough and strong enough to offer a good view while holding me up. The trees always held me up. I was better out here. I took a moment to feel the space I filled.