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I made a face. “No way. Canadians are knownfor their niceness.”
“Groups migrated there thinking the cold would slow the infected.”
“Ah. That makes sense. Not the slow theory. The fact that the people fighting aren’t from there.
“Well, let Waurlyn know that once this bun is out of the oven, I’m willing to volunteer for a three-month peacekeeping tour.”
“Liar,” Rachel said, sitting down beside us.
She pulled up her shirt and started nursing her youngest while rolling her eyes at me.
“Like you would miss a moment of these rug rats growing up.”
I made a face at her and looked at my adorable niece. At six months, she was alert and had the prettiest blue eyes that she used to stare at Molev. Every now and again, she would smile at him. I knew those milky smiles melted him every time. He would take several bullets for any of these people, but especially the kids.
“Fine. You’re right. I don’t have it in me to leave.”
I tipped my head back to look up at the already impressive tree June had planted five years ago.
“Did you ever think it would be like this, this fast?” I asked.
Rachel looked over at me from under her sunhat.
“The tree?” She shook her head and looked up at it. “They’re tracking its growth rate and estimating fifty feet a year. I’m really glad we didn’t plant it in the open lot like you wanted. Can you imagine if that thing fell over in a windstorm? It would have taken out too many roofs.”
“I didn’t mean the tree,” I said, looking at the expansive branches and the vines already twisting their way up the thick trunk. “I meant sitting out in the open like this.”
The last infected sighting in this area had been almost a year ago now. And it had been a lone infected wandering its way north. Our guess based on its worn-out flip-flops and the mission volunteer teeshirt was that it had been someone in South America who called the northern Midwest home.
Other parts of the world weren’t as lucky, and people were still fighting the infected. We did our part by offering what aid we could through supplies and sometimes a small group of fey. But only for short periods since they all had families now.
Little Tholin and Naomi ran up to us then with Roni’s two kids and Brog close on their heels. Molev shifted me in his lap, catching both of them before they could pounce on me.
Tholin had his father’s hair and eyes, but my skin tone and ears. Based on his current growth rate, he’d take after his father in size. Naomi was all her father and nothing of me except her comparatively petite size. The one in the oven kicked, a reminder that it would soon be three.
“Not in a million years,” Rachel said when she looked at me again. “But we earned this peace, don’t you think?”
We had.
