“Great, an origami lunch,” she joked, but she ate it as fast as she could, dropping crumbs on Ishkode’s fuzzy head as she nursed. Chi Boy refused his share and gave it to her. Wab paused to smile at him before downing that slice, too. She was softer and also somehow more cutting than ever. There was a new desperation in her features now that there was more than her, more than us, to worry about. The baby was mostly quiet, sleeping hard and working to get milk from her mother.

The day had changed from a soft haze outside the window to a howling rage of rain by the time the blond returned. We had time to sit back and pretend at lethargy before she got in, since the door was firmly chained. We’d been through sixty-two permutations of the combo by then.

“Hey, y’all,” she stepped timidly into the shed.

We didn’t answer.

“I brought you some more food.” She shook a Tupperware container stacked to the lid with cookies.

She held out the container, then awkwardly pulled it back. “Oh, I guess you can’t really get to them.” She pried the lid off and tucked it under her arm. “I baked them just now, so they’re still warm.”

The room was flooded with a smell I’d never smelled before, and my whole head filled up with saliva.

“Chocolate chip,” she giggled nervously. Here we were, tied up, cuffed and caged, about to get ripped inside out, and she was the one who was nervous. “My daughter’s favorite.”

She shuffled her feet in her cheap sandals and tried not to make eye contact. “I’ll just, uh, I’ll just do this.” She walked around and placed two cookies in front of each person, close enough so we could bend over and pick them up off the ground with our mouths. She hurried past Miig with a hand held just below her nose.

“Yeah, blood isn’t the best smell, is it?” Rania scoffed. “Better skedaddle before the harvesting really begins, then.”

“I’m so sorry,” the woman whispered.

“Veronica, is it?” Miig asked in a small voice.

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Veronica. We appreciate the food.” He didn’t reach for his share. She placed a third cookie on top of his pile nonetheless.

Sometimes Miig and his damn manners really pissed me off, like now. Why should we be thankful for scraps of food when we could be out in the world getting our own without having to worry about getting slit open and pulled apart?

Veronica paused at the cage and crouched down. She picked out half a dozen cookies and broke each of them in half. “Oh my lord, the baby!” She grabbed the bars, dropping crumbs everywhere. She craned her head this way and that. Wab stayed very still, following her movements with her eyes only.

“Oh my gosh. Oh, that baby is sweet! I have a daughter myself. Angel. She’s nine now.”

“How nice for you,” Wab answered sarcastically, arms crossed over her swollen chest at the back of the cage. “Maybe one day, our kids can play together. Oh, wait…”