“She knows how to sugar bush. I’ll have her write up a list of materials,” Ben says.
Quickly, he adds, “Oh shit, can she write? I know some humans have more or less given up formal education.”
“I imagine she can? We’ll ask her. And about the state of schools for human children.” A grimace crosses his face as he looks lost in thought. He continues, “What else happened today?”
“I gave her a robe so she wouldn’t be too cold. We started bread, but she was tired, so we snuggled her down into Ben’s bed.”
Arch heads to the kitchen, “And she’s been sleeping all afternoon?” He puts the bag he’s carrying on the table and pulls out several heads of broccoli. I stand and slip behind him, my tail curling around his leg in affection.
“Mmm, those are gorgeous. If I grab an onion and a few peppers from the garden, I can make a quinoa stir-fry for dinner?” I suggest even as I pull out a pan to soak the grain.
Arch kisses my shoulder, “Sounds perfect.”
As dictated in the takeover by the NUS, all homes are required to keep a Victory garden. Villages of more than ten families are required to section of land for community gardens. Some of our scientists have been working on increasing the growth rate and production of fruit trees that will survive in the altered climate here, as well as protein sources such as quinoa and lentils. The new structure of the world’s countries requires more self-sufficiency by each nation. Of course, we gargoyles wanted to dissolve nations and have one united rule, but the humans were incredibly resistant to that. It is one of the things we compromised on when we negotiated the peace treaty.
I step out onto the balcony and spread my wings, allowing myself to glide around our house to where the garden is. As Iopen the gate to feed Sally and Molly, my eyes flick up to the window of Ben’s room, where our little bride is resting.
She’s still quite spicy, but I am glad to see that she is settling in, finding pleasure in our touch, even if she is a bit reluctant.
We technically all took a week off to help her adjust to her new expectations and be involved in her training; but of course Arch was going to get called in for some work shit. Higher up government official and all, even if our government was much more progressive than the ones they overthrew.
NUS government instituted the four day work week and paid time off for public sector jobs and hopefully within a decade we’ll be able to require, through government funding, the private sector to as well. However, lots of folks no longer worked a traditional job, instead focused on farming or hunting or other subsistence work.
I give the goats some pats and put out a scoop of their grain. I head to our garden and dig out a large yellow onion with my bare hand. I pinch off a few of the sweet peppers. Once I have those tucked in my arm, I stand and stretch, enjoying our view. Our home is in a small clearing near a lake, surrounded by thin forest. Other high ranking chimes have homes within a two-hundred mile radius of Beech Bluff. Our nearest neighbors of any import are a group of young, lower chimes that live together a few miles away, a series of homesteads, and a village ten miles to the north, and a couple taverns in any direction. Taverns, or wayhouses, they are called, for humans traveling the larger distances between settlements.
We’re a short flight to both the Beech Bluff facility and Greenville. One of the best things our government did, in my opinion, was break up the wretched urban sprawl the humans had created. Now, there were rarely more than four large buildings together, letting nature take back the land that had been clawed away from her.
Suddenly, I hear Arch bellow, his rage and fear clear in the wordless yell that emerges from the house. I jump straight up, wings beating hard as I propel myself around our home. A few geese launch themselves out of the lake in fright.
Landing, I run in, dropping the vegetables onto the couch as I head for Ben’s room. I can hear them arguing.
“No, I swear, she was here! Sleeping!” Ben wails, sounding lost.
“I leave for five fucking hours and ourbrideismissing!” Arch yells in fury.
Shit. How? That damn vixen.
I shake myself, going into Ranger mode.
I stride in, stating, “We put her to bed about four hours ago. She’s a human, she can’t be far. We can capture her before she makes contact with anyone. This situation is not unfixable.”
Arch turns to me, his face darkened in rage. “She’s mine!We seeded her!How dare she?”
He’s in a tempest.
“Archibald, get a grip, weneedyou,” I bark. “If we fly a quick grid pattern, we should be able to spot her trail.”
Arch’s darkest blue eyes land on me and I see him taking some deep breaths, trying to get under control.Good.
Ben’s shocked grey eyes are locked on mine and I force a small smile for him.He’s probably feeling like this is his fault.
“Ben, fly west, Arch, north, I’ll go south. She likely didn’t go east because she’d have to skirt the lake. Unless she’s clearly grabbable, do not engage, just mark her location and direction. Report back in twenty minutes.”
My bonded both nod and I turn my back on them, getting a running start off the balcony. A few strong flaps and I let the wind carry me as I make a slow circuit around the house, hoping I’ll see some clear evidence of her direction. I mark the time by the sun so I can be back to debrief in time.
Nothing though, no obvious trail. Clever minx. I think back on what Ben said about her parents as I turn north.Rebels, he said,dead. I frown. When I have some time, I’m going to look them up. But I imagine that once we find our bride, we’re going to be rather busy with her for awhile.
I drop a bit lower, closer to the treetops. The forest is an open, older one, without much low, brushy coverage between the trees. She’s either nude or in that purple robe. Either way, easy colors to spot in the green and yellows of the late summer. And easy enough to find a floundering human’s trail.
