“Oh, come on!”
“Would that count as being racist?” Adam said to Roscoe, speaking over me. “Or species-ist?”
“I’m a half-turn, you idiots,” I shouted. “And this is the dumbest conversation.”
“Definitely,” Roscoe said, ignoring me. “And I bet he wants us to do all that while he gets to eat all the human snacks.”
Adam and Roscoe cracked smiles at one another, while I became more frustrated.
“One cake,” I muttered.
“Get me one too,” Adam said. “Better make that two more. I’m sure Austin’s a little hungry.”
“If we run out of things to trade, that’s on you guys.”
“We brought most of the pantry with us,” Roscoe said, reaching for the bag on Austin’s back, prompting another snarl. “Uh, you better say the magic words.”
Adam ran in front of Austin, looking him in the eye. “Let Roscoe into your bag just this once.”
The other werewolf nodded, and Roscoe reached into the backpack, snatching several cakes before slowly backing away.
“Better make it one more,” I said, holding out my hand.
“Couldn’t resist, huh?” He slapped one of them into my palm.
“Well, they are the Christmas tree-shaped ones,” I said, then tore open the package with my teeth. “They don’t make them all year, and they taste better for some reason.”
Adam popped one of the cakes into his mouth and chewed. “I haven’t celebrated the holidays in years.”
“It’s been a while for me too,” I said, thinking back on the last six years I’d spent alone, watching festive movies while eating turkey TV dinners.
“I used to get high under that big Christmas tree on Main Street until the cops would kick me out,” Roscoe said with his usual grin, though this one seemed more forced than usual. “I haven’t cooked a huge Thanksgiving dinner in years. Maybe when all this is over, I’ll cook us all a holiday meal.”
“If we can get Austin back,” Adam muttered.
A sniffle broke the chatter, and we turned toward Austin as he began crying. At first, I thought he was responding to Adam’s concern, but his expression was blank, as usual.
We all stared into the dancing flames of the campfire. On one side of me was Roscoe who gave off so much heat I had toslip halfway out of my jacket, and on the other side was Adam, who kept dozing off and drooling on my shoulder. Austin sat up straight, his blue eyes remaining locked onto the flames as his ears pulled back into an almost fearful position. I wondered what was going through his mind—if anything.
We wanted to stay up, hoping the fire would attract the ferals, but the later it got, the more I doubted they were interested. After my last conversation with that elder, the prospects were grim.
Go back to the Midna.
My answers to the feral’s questions that day only seemed to annoy him.
“I think it’s time we get some shut eye,” Roscoe said, pulling me closer to him. “I got my hoodie, and it’s big enough that I can zip you up in it, too.”
“Did you wash it?”
“It’s got all my good stink in it. I told you that last time.”
“Pass,” I muttered. Roscoe laid next to me as Adam dozed off on my shoulder again. “Hey,” I said, giving the smaller werewolf a shake. “Don’t forget to tell Austin to go to sleep.”
He nodded and whispered a command. After a moment of shuffling, Adam fell asleep in Austin’s embrace, both of them starting to snore. This would have been cuter had they both done this voluntarily.
“They’re not going to come,” I whispered to Roscoe. “They probably don’t want to get involved with the Midna any more than they have to.”
“Aw shucks. Guess we’ll have to eat that barbecue then.”
