Chapter Twenty-three 6 page

Not many ferals survived on their own. They just didn?t have the skills. With their humanity in meltdown and their wolven side spasming out of control, they were a danger to themselves and everything that crossed their path, if they even got as far as full transmutation. Like a robust cancer, the wolven contagion reproduced quickly at a cellular level throughout the host body. The human genome was supplanted by wolven DNA flushing through the cells, reprogramming them. Lycanthropy was a fragmentation of the human self at its cellular core, not some wild call of the moon. The body either re-oriented to the invading DNA or became totally apoptotic. If victims did survive this dismantling of their physiology, the psychological stresses of that first change usually tipped them over. It was survival of the fittest, both physically and mentally, and what made you the fittest was a strong pack. An Alpha with any gumption should be able to nurture her initiates through this torment. The old Garoul almanac sitting in her kitchen had been a lifeline for more than one of Ren?s strays.

Ren glumly thought of her little pack and the various sad ways they had come to her. Isabelle, however, was a different matter altogether? She remembered the colors of the picnic blanket. The sweet smell of wine on Isabelle?s breath as she leaned in to her for that first kiss. Isabelle?s eyes widening as she realized Ren?s intention. And that slight lift of her chin as she accepted. Ren?s skin still goose-bumped as she recalled the thrill that had run through her on that first kiss. She had at last found her mate, but that was no excuse. No amount of isolation and loneliness could absolve what had happened.

Ren left the bunkhouse and its glum interior and made her way home. Explanations were due, and soon she would have to provide them?no matter what the consequences.

Ren was greeted by the smell of home cooking. She found Isabelle at the kitchen table, gazing off into the distance.

?Hungry?? Ren nodded at the half-eaten steak in a pool of bloody gravy.

Isabelle snapped out of her reverie. ?I didn?t hear you come in. You move like a cat.?

?You were daydreaming.? Ren took the seat opposite. Isabelle looked over at her puzzled.

?I just realized something.? She looked mournfully at her bloody plate. ?I?m a vegetarian. I even asked Jenna for greens.?

?Oh?? Ren was unsure how to tackle this. It was an opportune segue, but she hesitated to grab it.

?Yes,? Isabelle said. ?And suddenly I love meat? Rare meat? Really, really rare meat. The taste is? is fantastic.? She cut another mouthful. ?I don?t know what?s come over me.?

?Maybe your body needs the protein.? It did, lots of it. Ren was pleased with Isabelle?s robust physiology. She was coping well.

?I cooked you one.?

?Thank you.? Ren grinned, pleased at the cozy domesticity and thoughtfulness.

?This is it.? Isabelle pointed at her plate and its oozing contents. ?I was so hungry I ate them both.? Isabelle stared at her dolefully. ?I don?t understand it.?

?Your body?s expending a lot of energy to heal. It needs a ton of calories and proper nourishment.? Ren shrugged, making light of it. ?It?s nature?s way. You?re an animal after all.?

?Jenna said you work for the fisheries here.? Isabelle?s conversation changed direction. Ren smiled. Isabelle never missed an opportunity to ferret out some new information.

?Yeah. We?re a satellite station for the Creeker hatchery. They have dozens of sites all over this area.?

?A satellite station??

?Yup. I?m heading down there now with the boys. Come along and I?ll show you.?

?Is that why you all live here in the middle of nowhere? You work for the hatchery??

?The hatchery contract is only part-time. It brings in some extra money, but my main income is from my veterinary practice. I keep a summer surgery in the valley.?

?And the young people working for you, Ren? Where do they come from??

?They just drift in, mostly from Vancouver and a hundred other places in between. If there?s enough work, then I offer them a bunk and a wage.? She could tell by Isabelle?s frown her story was not as easily swallowed as the last of the steak.

?What about Mouse? What happened to her parents??

?I was a friend of her mother?s. I never knew her father. He was long gone before Mouse was born. Mouse stayed with me when her mother became?became ill. We?lost her, and Mouse lives with me now. I?m her legal guardian.? The words were curt and pain-filled, though she tried to hide it.

?Isn?t she lonely way out here? What about school, or friends of her own age??

?She gets home schooling and she has plenty of company.?

?But she?s so young??

?Enough.? Ren rose to her feet. ?It?s the way it is. This is the best place for her. It?s her home.? She realized she sounded sharp and tried to soften her words. ?Are you ready to head down to the river??

She was relieved when, after a moment?s thought, Isabelle nodded and gracefully accepted.

Ren?s truck bounced over a mud track that was barely wider than the cab. They were hard on the tail of Patrick and Noah?s truck. A steep incline of tight hairpin curves drove them deeper into the forest. Isabelle imagined they were being swallowed, sliding down an intestinal tract into the murky belly of the valley.

?What?s the name of this valley?? she asked.

?The Singing Valley. And the river?s called the Tearfell. It?s a salmon race, and it?s in the center of a conservation bioregion.?

?The names sound so beautiful?and sad. I?ve often wondered how places got their names. There must be a sad story behind this place.?

Ren looked sideways at her. ?Local legend has it the ghosts of wolves gather here, and at night the valley is filled with their singing.?

?That?s spooky. What about the Tearfell??

?Someone must have thought it was salty.? Ren shrugged, disinterested.

?Filled with tears,? Isabelle mused. The deeper they descended, the gloomier the surrounding forest became. It was a woebegone, claustrophobic place. The weak winter sun barely penetrated the tree canopy. The light that did manage to creep through was marbled gray, consumed by the shadows before it reached the forest floor.

They swerved around another wild bend and the track began to level out. Over the rattle of the engine Isabelle thought she could make out the splash of the nearby river.

?We?re nearly there,? Ren said. ?The valley?s about three miles wide and the Tearfell cuts from the northeast down to the coast. The water runs slower in this particular spot, so it?s easier to collect the fish eggs and milk. Today it?s running faster because of the thaw.?

?Milk is the fish sperm, isn?t it? I?m not going to ask how you collect that.?

?Later, after the eggs hatch, they?re brought back up here and we nurse the fry. That?s what the channel is for. We rear pink salmon fry until they?re big enough to head downstream.?

?Does it hurt them? Collecting the eggs and milk??

?The fish come here to breed, then die. We leave most to do it the natural way and collect from a few, just to be sure. They all die in the end. It?s their destiny. Breed and die. But we can use their life cycle to monitor the coastal ecosystem. They are a fantastic species indicator for the health of the river and coastline.?

?Poor fish. So more survive because of the harvesting?? Isabelle asked. The truck hit the level of the valley floor, and Isabelle saw they were headed for a clearing by the riverbank.

?They?ll mature at sea and come back in a few years to this exact river to breed. We collect the brood stock annually. The pinks are mostly a sporting fish and we get a remit for how many we raise. The conservation side is for sockeye and coho. They?re more susceptible to disease so we have to tag and monitor their populations carefully. There?s a little less money in that, but to be honest, I?d do it for free anyway.? Her love for the valley and its nature was apparent in the warmth and energy of her voice.

?So you collect the eggs and they?re taken down to the hatchery and then the hatched fry are sent back so they can mature in the river they came out of??

?Exactly.?

Isabelle looked around her. ?I feel like I know this area. At least some of the names sound familiar, like Singing Valley and Lonesome Lake.?

Ren stiffened. ?We?re nowhere near Lonesome Lake. What put that in your head?? Her voice was flat and careful now, the previous energy muted with caution.

Isabelle shrugged and acted casual.

?Can?t remember.? She could hardly say she?d been ransacking the contents of Ren?s suitcase and found a marked map.

?The Tearfell?s a smaller tributary of the Old Ironshoe River. I guess when you stayed with your aunt Mary you visited some of these places. Parts of the Old Ironshoe are very touristy. You can water raft, and fish, and stuff.?

Ren was trying hard to look nonchalant, but it was obvious Lonesome Lake was an off-topic subject for her. Maybe she was right, Isabelle pondered. Maybe she had visited these places and that was why the names were vaguely familiar. It made perfect sense. But the map proved that Lonesome Lake was important to Ren in a way that wasn?t connected to hatchery work.

?Here we are. There?s not much to see. It?s a fairly basic setup.?

The trucks pulled into parking spaces before a small lodge built onto the waterside. Patrick opened the lodge doors.

?What?s in there?? Isabelle asked.

?Nets, temperature-controlled cold boxes, waders, all sorts of fishing gear.? Ren and Isabelle followed the boys into the cabin. It was a work hut. Reams of nets hung across the roof beams. Plastic cold boxes were piled everywhere. It smelled of fish and disinfectant. Hosepipes, hooks, life jackets sat in rows. It was an orderly and efficient storage space.

?The different fish have different breeding seasons, so it?s mostly year-round work. But there?s not much to do in the winter.? Ren made a quick inspection. ?Looks good, boys,? she said.

Noah and Patrick puffed up with the praise. Isabelle remembered the scolding they?d gotten earlier for the fox. This must be the make-up, she decided. At least Ren tried to keep a semblance of balance in managing them, but it was a strange setup. They seemed to worship her.

Again, Isabelle wondered how this little group had congregated here in the first place, especially if the work was only seasonal. Did they all go their separate ways later in the year, or stay and farm the upper slopes? When would her growing list of questions ever stop?

?How do you get the fish eggs down to the hatchery?? She had no idea how the system operated. Did they float them down the very river the brooding fish struggled to swim up? How ironic would that be?

?The hatchery plane comes for them,? Noah said. He stood beside her pairing off a pile of mismatched rubber boots.

This was news. ?Planes? I thought we were isolated.?

?Nah. We have a courier service every couple of weeks or so, for provisions or to ferry people down the valley.? He gave an easy smile at her confusion. ?Jenna would bite my hand off if she didn?t get her regular supply of Tootsie Rolls.?

Isabelle was dumbfounded. Tootsie Rolls? Wasn?t her car crash enough to merit a flight down to Bella Coola General? She?d lain for days in a hallucinogenic fever suffering brutal nightmares, to awaken with partial amnesia and a face like a prizefighter. Isabelle felt her temper begin to fray. Ren?s whole attitude to her accident was far too cavalier.

?Where do the planes land?? she asked, keeping her voice calm. She needed to find out all she could from Noah. It was obvious Ren was not going to surrender the information.

?Over the ridge. There?s a lake there.? Noah had stopped work and edged a hip onto a stack on boxes. He seemed content to take a break and sit with her.

?What lake is that?? If the answer was Lonesome Lake, she was going to explode right then and there.

?The Black Knife. Jenna and me will take you swimming there in the summer. There are some great rocks to dive from.? He gave her a huge, enthusiastic smile. ?Jenna makes a killer picnic.?

He assumes I?ll be here in the summer? Isabelle dismissed the thought. She could mull over that little tidbit later. She was on to something more substantial here.

?Tell me about the plane. You mean it flies in and lands on the water? Like a float plane?? That sounded exciting.

?Yeah. Float planes. We got supplies coming in the next few days. Mostly medical stuff, right, Ren??

Ren was poking about the cold boxes checking out the thermo gauges, Patrick shadowing her every move. She grunted at Noah, not really listening.

Isabelle took advantage of her distraction. ?Why do you need extra medical supplies?? she asked quietly. ?Because Ren?s a vet??

?Sort of. Joey?s accident used up masses of stuff. Ren went through almost all our stitching silk and saline pulling him back together. He looked like a rag doll by the time she?d done.?

Isabelle felt a renewed twinge of anxiety. Joey hadn?t been bragging when he said his wounds were from last week.

?What happened to him?? she asked, determined to lay at least one of her fears to rest. Had he been mauled? Accidentally shot? Fallen from a tree? What the hell had happened to him? It couldn?t possibly have anything to do with her.

Noah gave a graceless laugh. ?He forgot to look left and right before crossing the road,? he said cryptically.

?Noah!? Ren called sharply. ?I need you over here. Go over the inventory with Patrick. We need to replace several cold boxes. The thermostats are clouded.?

She took Isabelle by the arm and guided her out of the lodge. ?Come see the channel. Then we have to go. Jenna?s invited us for dinner.?

It was midafternoon and already the sun was dipping over the valley lip. The gloom deepened and the woodland around them became even more oppressive. What little light there was had almost disappeared. The valley floor would never see much sun, not even at the height of summer; it was too overgrown and crowded. The area they were standing in would be a mosquito pit on hotter days.

Ren led them toward her truck.

?We need to drive about half a mile along the riverbank to get to the channel.? She raised her head and sniffed the air. Her skin glowed and her eyes narrowed. She seemed content; a new kind of vibrancy entered her step with the lowering light. It was almost imperceptible, but Isabelle was aware of the subtle changes and looked around for the source of Ren?s excitement. Whatever it was, it eluded her.

?You never told me there was a plane.?

?I didn?t think to mention it,? Ren answered. ?Are you always this dogged??

?Yes, I am. Especially when it?s clear I could have gone to a hospital at any time.?

?You had a fever, that was all. I took care of your stitches. You didn?t need to go to a hospital. You were safe here.?

?Ren, I whacked my head. I lost my memory. Jesus, doesn?t that worry you??

?It doesn?t matter where you are, here or in a hospital ward, your memories will come back. It?s best you?re with me when they do.?

?And why?s that??

Ren?s fingers tightened on her arm. ?Because I?m the one with all your answers.?

?Oh, for God?s sake. Then tell me.?

?I can?t. You don?t know the questions yet.?

The channel was a disappointing concrete trough, about thirty feet long and covered with a metal mesh to keep the birds out. Fresh river water constantly flushed through a series of end valves while the fry swam against the man-made current becoming bigger and stronger. Isabelle pressed against the wall and squinted at the brown fry squirming in their concrete prison. Her mind was on other things. She pushed away her annoyance at Ren and her riddles. It would get her nowhere. If she wanted answers she had to deduce them for herself. But it was interesting that a plane was arriving in the next couple of days. When it left she hoped to be on it.

A flash of blue caught her eye as a belted kingfisher dive-bombed into the river. An instant later it splashed free with a wriggling brown blob in its beak.

?Someone?s caught his dinner,? Ren murmured. ?Maybe it?s time we did the same.?

?There goes a good reason all fish aren?t reared in channels like this. Some have to be fodder for other species to survive.? Isabelle pulled away from the channel wall. ?I suppose that?s easy for me to say, being on top of the food chain.?

?Yes, I suppose you are now.? Ren gave a wolfish grin and started back to the truck. ?Come on. Let?s go back.?

Twilight cast a spectacular gloom over everything as they walked back to the truck. Unnerving, organic shadows crept out of the undergrowth. The headlights on Ren?s truck were the only pinpoints of safety in the entire valley, and Isabelle was grateful for them as she clambered into the front cab. Singing Valley was a spooky place at night. She could see why there were ghost stories about it.

?Aren?t the boys coming with us?? Isabelle asked.

?Later. They have other things to do.?

?But it?s getting dark,? she said, looking around uneasily.

?Nighttime?s the best time.? Ren gunned the engine and began the steep drive back up the valley side.

Chapter Ten

?Eat your greens.?

?I don?t wanna,? Mouse whined. ?I hate greens. Why do I have to eat them? We never had greens before.?

?Eat them,? Ren roared across the table.

?Ren,? Isabelle said. ?Stop shouting at the child.?

A quick glance around the dinner table told her everyone was uncomfortable. Jenna sat ramrod stiff, and Joey shifted uneasily in his chair. Mouse hung her head and sulked at her plate. Isabelle realized the discomfort was not at Ren?s barked reprimand but rather her challenge to it. Her gaze swung full circle back to Ren, who stared at her in startled surprise.

?Well, you shouldn?t,? she said sternly. ?She?s just a child.?

?She?ll eat whatever Jenna gives her,? Ren said in a quieter tone, but still a little disgruntled. An uneasy silence followed that Isabelle felt obliged to fill.

?Thank you for a lovely meal, Jenna.? It had been a splendid meal and the third steak dinner Isabelle had eaten that day, much to her stomach?s delight and her own surprise. She had wondered at the greens Jenna had managed to serve with the rich venison. All, except Mouse, had stoically munched their way through a bitter winter herb salad. Jenna must have gone foraging for her ingredients, and Isabelle more than appreciated the gesture. She warmed to Jenna?s generous nature and was eager to show it.

Mouse pushed the last of her food around her plate until Ren lost patience with her again.

?You. Bed. Now.? She pointed at the door. Mouse flung down her fork, and with a loud, tearful sniff, stomped out of the room.

?She is one little alpha brat.? Ren sighed as soon as the door slammed shut.

?Tell me.? Jenna began to gather up the empty plates. ?I?m the one teaching her math.?

Joey rose from the table.

?Where are you going?? Ren asked. Joey flushed a violent red.

?It?s my turn to babysit tonight,? he mumbled. ?I swapped so Jenna could hang with Noah.?

?Who said you could swap the schedule?? Ren frowned. Now Jenna turned beet red.

?It?s just until Joey?s more mobile,? she stammered. ?I?ll pay back the babysitting hours later, when he?s better and wants to run?? Her sentence jerked to a stop at Ren?s frown. Jenna threw a guilty glance toward Isabelle.

Isabelle felt sorry for the girl. She?d already suspected Jenna and Noah were an item. Her impatience with Ren grew. Why shouldn?t the girl go meet her beau, though Lord knew what there was for them to do around here. Ren must have read her thoughts, for she grudgingly complied.

?Okay, you can swap tonight. But no more schedule switches without clearing it with me first. I need to know who?s where, doing what.?

Joey and Jenna exhaled in relief. Joey left to follow Mouse, and Jenna continued to clear the table.

?Let me help.? Isabelle collected the dirty dishes. ?Please let me wash up.? She was trying desperately to smooth over Jenna?s embarrassment.

?I?ll get coffee.? Ren stood. ?With a shot of brandy. Jenna, you get going, we?ll finish up.? With a grateful smile Jenna untied her apron and headed for the door.

?What on earth is there for them to do around here?? Isabelle asked as she piled the sink full of dishes and ran the water.

?Plenty. Here, let me help.? Ren took up a dish towel and began to dry as Isabelle washed.

Later they sat on the cookhouse porch and sipped brandy-laced coffee.

?The valley is magical at night.? Ren sounded content.

A plaintive howl echoed from the forest below, and Isabelle shivered under her thick jacket. ?The valley sounds dangerous. It?s the mountains that are magical.? She gazed at the circle of snowy peaks; they glowed against the velvet night sky.

Another howl rent the night air.

?God, listen to that. Will they be all right out there?? Isabelle asked nervously.

?That wolf is miles away. The acoustics of the valley make it sound closer.? A chorus of howls answered the first cry, and for a moment the whole valley resonated with the eerie melody. ?Sounds like a party.?

?I can see why it?s called the Singing Valley.? Isabelle settled back in her seat and watched the tip of the waxing moon balance delicately on a distant mountain ridge. The sky was cloudless and the night air crisp and sharp. A million stars swathed the heavens above them in expansive swirls of design.

?It?s beautiful here.? Isabelle?s breath escaped in little misty puffs. ?I wish I knew the constellations.?

?See that W shape?? Ren pointed overhead. ?That?s Cassiopeia. And right up there, Ursa Major, or the Big Dipper.? She continued to point while Isabelle struggled to see what she was actually pointing at.

?Wait. What W shape??

A cry from the bunkhouse brought Ren to her feet before Mouse?s scream had even registered with Isabelle. By the time Isabelle stood, Ren was already halfway across the yard, running for the other building. Isabelle chased after her. She arrived at the bunkhouse in time to see Ren bend over a tearful Mouse. She was sitting in her bunk crying and had obviously woken from a nightmare. Isabelle was full of sympathy. She?d suffered enough nightmares to last a lifetime.

?What is it?? Joey hobbled in bare-chested from the washroom. Toothpaste rimmed his mouth.

?Just a bad dream.? Ren lay Mouse back down and tucked the blankets up under her chin. ?It?s okay, Mouse.?

?It?s under the bed.? Mouse kicked the blankets off again and sat up.

?What is?? Ren asked.

?The vampire.? Mouse was very determined to exit a bed that had a vampire under it. ?I was sleeping and it touched my arm and I screamed and it vanished.?

?Vampire?? Ren glared over at Joey. He went chalk white. ?Have you been showing her those stupid comics again??

?No, Ren. Honest.? He backed up a little.

?Ren. No more shouting, please.? Isabelle went over and gathered Mouse in her arms. She perched on the edge of the bed and cuddled her on her lap. Mouse burrowed into her. Although her tears had stopped, she was still upset.

?There?s nothing under the bed, honey,? Isabelle said.

?There is. I saw it.?

?You saw it? Under the bed? Goodness.? Isabelle sounded suitably surprised.

?Uh-huh.?

?Nonsense. There?s no such thing as vampires. I told you before.? Ren said.

?Ren.? Isabelle looked over Mouse?s head. ?Check under the bed, please.?

?What??

?Check under the bed. Mouse says she saw a vampire, and I want you to check.?

?You want me to look under the bed?? Ren was astounded.

?Yes, please,? Isabelle said calmly. ?If a vampire is stupid enough to come into this bunkhouse and hide under Mouse?s bed, I want you to find it and give it a pounding it never forgets. Better still, it tells all its friends that Singing Valley is off-limits to vampires unless they want a pounding, too.?

With a puff of exasperation, Ren bent on one knee and dipped her head to look under the bed.

?There?s nothing there.?

She stood and looked at Mouse curled up on Isabelle?s lap. Her face held a strange expression that Isabelle found impossible to read.

?See, honey. There?s no monsters under there,? Isabelle murmured into Mouse?s sweaty hair. ?Vampires are afraid of Ren. They know she?d chase them away.?

?Yes, she would. She?d bite them bad.? Mouse mulled over this new logic. It seemed to calm her. She still clung to Isabelle?s neck. Isabelle rubbed her thin little back with big, soothing circles. She liked comforting Mouse. Mouse needed hugs.

?Of course she would. And then there?s Joey, and Jenna, and Noah, and Patrick, too. Think about it. A vampire would never come here. They?d bash him good. You?re safe here, Mouse. This is the safest place in the whole world.?

?There are no such thing as vampires,? Ren stated again, frustration in her voice.

?And even if there were, you?ve got bigger teeth.? Mouse sounded cheerful. ?You?d bite them to pieces.?

?But there are no such things,? Ren grated out.

?I swear I never showed her no comics, Ren,? Joey said, fretfully. ?It?s just a silly dream you?re having, Mouse.?

?Of course there are no such things as monsters, but it doesn?t stop us from having bad dreams about them,? Isabelle said. She remembered the vague, black blurs with slick yellow eyes of her own nightmares. ?Let?s get you all tucked up.? She deposited Mouse back in bed and pulled the blankets over her.

?Can I go out and play tonight?? Mouse pleaded, her eyes big brown pools over the rim of the blanket. Isabelle was stunned. One moment the little girl was terrified of monsters under her bed, the next she wanted to go play in the forest at nighttime?

?No, you cannot.? Ren and Isabelle answered simultaneously, word for word. They glanced at each other in surprise.

?But I?m scared. I want to go running,? Mouse began to whine. ?Joey can come with me.?

?Joey will be in the bed right next to yours.? Ren pointed at the bed and Joey shuffled into it double quick.

?Now get to sleep, the both of you,? Ren ordered. ?Mouse, it?s way too late for you to be up, and Joey, take your meds and get an early night. I?ll need you to be a hundred percent soon.?

?Sure thing, Ren.? He radiated a new confidence under Ren?s attention.

?Good man.? Ren nodded.

Mouse?s complaints trailed away and were replaced with yawns as Isabelle tucked her in and settled her for the night.

?Sweet dreams, guys,? she called softly before closing the bunkhouse door behind them.

?Does Mouse have many nightmares?? she asked once they were outside.

?She sneaks peeks at the boys? horror comics and it frightens the bejesus out of her,? Ren muttered. ?I?ve told them not to leave that stuff lying around, but no one listens.?

?Oh, somehow I think they do.?

Rather than go back to the cookhouse, Ren took the path to her cabin. Isabelle fell into step beside her.

?No, they don?t, unless I get mad. Then everybody runs round like a hangdog for weeks.?

?It?s what kids do,? Isabelle said.

?Is it??

?Yes. They push to see how far they can go. Test the boundaries.? It seemed obvious to Isabelle that the kids adored Ren.

?Why do you collect them, Ren?? she asked.

?What do you mean??

?I mean it?s more than just giving a few drifter kids seasonal work. You?ve got some sort of project going on here. What?s going on? These kids seem?vulnerable. Damaged even.?

?Damaged?? Ren halted. She stood stock-still, waiting for Isabelle to clarify.

?Yes. Emotionally damaged.? Isabelle was not going to be shy with her answer. ?They all crave love and attention. And they all adore you. I mean, look at Noah, or Patrick even. They?re both so insecure in themselves and struggle so hard not to show it. And Jenna, she tries her hardest to please. Joey would do anything for anyone who had a kind word for him. And as for Mouse, she?s just begging for love and cuddles.?

Ren?s shoulders sagged and she continued her uphill path.

?What?s wrong?? Isabelle followed, concerned at Ren?s dejection. ?I didn?t mean to be hurtful. Ren?? But Ren was striding ahead.

?Ren?? Isabelle grabbed her by the arm to slow her down. ?Stop speeding away and talk to me. What did I say that upset you??

?Nothing.?

?It?s hardly nothing.?

Ren turned to face her. ?It?s just that I can?t do those things.?

?What things??

?The things that make it all right. That take away the insecurities and give reassurance and? cuddles.?

?Anybody can cuddle.?

?I can?t tell them it will be all right because I don?t know that myself.?

?Know what will be all right??

Ren shrugged impatiently and moved away again ?I don?t know. Life. The future. Everything.?

Date: 2016-06-12; view: 59