He digs. Gets about six inches before his shovel clangs against something solid.
"Rock."
"Shift three inches left."
He does. No rock. Keeps digging.
"How did you know that?"
"I've built a lot of fences." Marking the next hole with my heel, already thinking—if he's on hole three and Rhen's got the corner post, I can start lashing crossbars, which reminds me I need to check that the twine's long enough and also my left boot has been rubbing weird all morning. "Also I stepped on something hard there yesterday and almost broke my ankle."
"You just remembered that?"
"My ankle certainly did."
Rhen laughs. He's got the corner post braced against his thigh, whittling the base to a point with a knife that's seen better days.
"That knife's dull."
He looks down at it. Looks at me.
"It's tearing the wood instead of cutting. You're going to split the post." I hold out my hand. "Give it here."
He hesitates. But hands it over.
I pull out my whetstone and work the edge. Four strokes. Six. The blade catches the light differently.
"There." Hand it back. "Try now."
He draws the blade across the post. Clean curl of wood peeling off, smooth.
"Huh." He turns the knife over in his hand. "You carry a whetstone."
"I carry a lot of things. Comes from ten years of nobody else being around to hand me what I need."
"That's a long time alone."
"Wasn't always alone. Had chickens. Had goats too, until some of you ate them. Could've been you, even." I catch myself. "I didn't know it was you guys at first, obviously, but—anyways, yeah."
Halek snorts from three holes over. Definitely a laugh.
Rhen tests the edge again, watching me from the corner of his eye.
"Your shoulder." It's out before I mean it. "The scar. Does it still pull?"
His hand goes to it. Unconscious.
"Sometimes. When it's cold."
"The stitches were too deep on the lateral side." The words keep coming. "If you ever want me to look at it, I can't undo the scarring but I can probably ease the pull with some targeted—" Stop talking. "If you want."
"Maybe." Amused. "After the coop."
"After the coop."
The frame goes up faster with four, and I'm directing without thinking about it—posts here, deeper than that, foxes dig—
"Foxes don't come around here."Halek doesn't look up from his post.
