“Grouse is the matron.” He pointed opposite him to the older woman sitting beside Rose. She stared at the pile of green mush she had made on her saucer, smashing the peas with the back of her spoon without putting a single one in her slack mouth. “She’s quiet but strong in her convictions.”

“Of course she is,” Rose remarked, pulling her chair half an inch away, watching a string of shiny drool start a slow descent from the woman’s chin.

“Cardinal is our treasure. Right now, she is carrying the next generation.” Chief sat up straighter, puffing out his bloated stomach so it smooshed against the edge of the table.

The redhead, wearing an oversize men’s dress shirt unbuttoned to show ample cleavage, teared up. She grabbed the Chief’s hand and placed it on her flat stomach. “I am so blessed.”

“Wait, you’re pregnant? How far along?” Rose hadn’t heard that the settlers were fertile again. Word was that the mainstream was slowing down, maybe from the sicknesses, or maybe from all the failed cures. It had been a whisper for years, but lately, any news that came through to the runners was full of concern for the birth rate.

“We’re not sure. Uh, it’s early.”

“Cardinal is almost always pregnant,” Wren purred. “They don’t last long, but we’re hopeful this time.” Her words had a jealous tinge to them. One tear snaked down Cardinal’s face, landing with a plop on the top of her boob.

“And finally, there is Chickadee. Chickie is a remarkable hunter. She brings in meat at least once a week, and always when we need it the most.” He pointed at a woman who was short to the point of dwarfism, a mass of almost-white curls piled up on her head. She fixed Rose with eyes so blue they looked backlit, but said nothing.

Rose memorized the points that mattered: who seemed the closest to the throne—that was Owl and Wren—and who was clearly going mad—that was Grouse and maybe Chickie. She wasn’t sure which of the categories Cardinal belonged in. She was either delusional or really dumb. These were things that could be weaponized, should she need to fight. The jury was still out on Robin. The Chief was a different story. Did he really believe himself to be a healer who would usher in the new age one baby at a time, or was he after something else, something darker. She thought Nam might be able to provide that information, but Nam, as much as Rose liked them, was secretive and prone to disappearing for lengths of time.

Together, Nam and Rose washed Derrick as best they could with rags and some water brought in by a rain-soaked Grouse, who had to be reminded to leave the room. Even after that, she stood just outside the door, looking confused about which direction to turn, her long greying hair and long greying sheet toga dripping onto the floor. Nam left to go change Grouse’s clothes before she got sick.