Dancer shot Valentina a sarcastic look.
“Because you’ve been here as long as the camp, a thing that itself doesn’t make sense when I say it out loud, and I’ve seen you host a guest exactly zero times.”
Valentina sipped her coffee. She looked small and birdlike next to Dancer, who filled the space like a grizzly in its den.
“It simply was not called for in recent years.”
“By the by, I’m walking out on conversational thin ice here, but were you able to help Green with his…whatever it was? Incident?”
Valentina looked at Green to answer.
The wolf was still out there and the acorn tugged on the hem of his thoughts every six breaths, but he was no longer homeless, rudderless, and alone.
More or less.
“Yes,” Green said. “She has helped. And she’s been very generous.”
“I guess so,” Dancer said. “Room and board and a job? Pretty good terms for these woods. Pretty good terms for anywhere, I’d venture to guess. Not that I go in for such things. My last job involved mucking out stables and those horses acted like I was a mountain lion disguised in pants.”
Dancer pulled a full-sized mug from her jacket pocket and offered it to Green.
“Sassafras tea?”
“Please.”
She filled the cup from her red thermos.
He took it and found it earthy and soothing and kinder going down than Valentina’s coffee.
How much of civilization beyond sidewalks and streetlights is built on sharing food, drink, and shelter?
Dancer looked from Green to Valentina and back again.
“Two peas in a pod. Wonder of wonders. Anyways, besides checking on our newest neighbor here, I wanted to mention that I’m putting in a supply order with Aisha down in Hickory. Radio or drop off a list if you want anything. I’m putting in the order tomorrow morning. Winter ain’t here, but I expect it’s brushing its teeth and combing its hair.”
“Yes, of course,” Valentina said.
“I know, I know. You know your business out here. ‘Don’t tell your mother how to milk a duck,’ as my dear ol’ mom liked to say. I’ll get out of your hair.”
Dancer stood, making the camper look like a dollhouse.
Her face was entirely too close to the pulsating anomaly eyeing her from four inches away. One of its waving tendrils nearly grazed her ear. Green gripped the arms of his chair and tried to look unconcerned.
“Green, it is sincerely good to see you whole and hearty. And wearing appropriate headgear to boot.”
“Thank you and…likewise?”
Dancer grinned.
As she exited, Green touched the crown of his head. Dancer’s hat was there, itchy and shapeless, but he could have sworn he had been hatless when he looked in Valentina’s mirror.
The camper door shut with a click.
He took another sip of tea.
“Oh, she left me her mug again.”
“Ah. She must trust you to return it to her then. I believe it harkens back to a number of customs that dictated when you leave a friend’s presence you must first find a reason to meet again. Ms. Dancer is often surprisingly old-fashioned.”
