“I don’t really care,” I sign back, still cranky.
Jeran hands me one of the bowls of stew he’s carrying, then sets a second one beside himself after nearly dropping it. His eyes, always observant, linger on the tent where Red is currently hiding.
Across the fire, Adena leans on her knees from where she sits and uses a hunk of hard bread to push around the chunks of fish in the stew. She shoves the entire softened bread into her mouth. “Maybe he’s plotting against us,” she signs.
Jeran frowns at Adena and hands me a second bowl of stew. “You’re suggesting he might be a mole?” he signs back.
“I’m saying he could be anything. We don’t know. Do we?” She turns to look at me. “Is he clever when you talk to him?”
“Very average,” I reply witheringly at the same time Jeran also signs, “He seems educated.”
Adena snorts. “Maybe he’s not a spy, then.”
I glare darkly at the bird we have roasting over the flames. She’s not wrong, although it would be foolish for him to try anything out here. What would he do? Break out of his chains and through the heart of our defense lines to deliver messages to the Federation? Either way, Red hasn’t emerged since we arrived. As far as I know, he’ll stay in there and go hungry for the rest of the night just to avoid having to see me again.
At the look on my face, Adena sighs and pats my knee. “I’m kidding. Just give it some time,” she says aloud to me. “Maybe he’ll be useful yet.”
I watch the fire lick the night air, unwilling to admit that I’m looking for more reasons to dislike him. “He won’t talk,” I continue. “He won’t eat anything except some stale dinner rolls. At this point, all I’m doing is waiting out the days until he gets himself killed.”
“Adena didn’t tell me anything for the first several years we were paired,” Jeran speaks as he gingerly cuts a leg off the roasted bird and tosses it in her direction. She catches it in one hand, bounces it from the heat, and bites into it. “It took me six months to learn what part of the city she lived in.”
“But you were the hardest to crack, Talin,” Adena says to me, holding up a greasy finger. “And not because you’re quiet. Corian came to me so many times for advice on how to get you to open up. Did you know that? He would ask me how I started conversations with you and what made you laugh.”
I smile, remembering a time when Corian had dressed in a ridiculous shade of green because Adena had told him it was my favorite color. “I knew,” I respond.
We all fall quiet for a beat, grieving over our own memories.
“Train with him for a few days,” Jeran finally signs, nodding back in the direction of Red’s tent. “Maybe you can help him prepare for a battle so that, if he does end up in front of a Ghost with you, he has a chance.”
“Didn’t he escape a Ghost at the warfront?” Adena signs.
“Word has it,” Jeran replies.
“Well. Maybe he’s a better fighter than we think. At least he has some muscle on him. Didn’t you tell us about his unusual skin, Talin?”
I nod.
“Has he mentioned anything about what he can do?” Jeran signs at me. “Or why he’s branded?”
I shake my head, thinking of the strangeness of Red’s artificial body.
“If he’s an experiment,” Adena signs after a while, “then it’s likely he isn’t the only one. There might be others like him back in the Federation. Although who the hell knows what he’s useful for.”
A silhouette stretches over us, and suddenly our hands all freeze. I look up to see Red approach our campfire. His eyes are wary, his steps as slow and cautious as if he were hunting.
Adena’s hand moves closer to one of the swords at her side, but Jeran reaches out to her without looking away from Red. He shakes his head subtly. Adena’s hand relaxes, but her stare stays on my new Shield.
“So…,” she says, letting the word trail uncertainly into an awkward silence.
Red stands there, unsure of what to do. On the top of his shoulder, his mouse sniffs the air, tentatively heading down his arm at the smell of food.
I wave him over, gesturing to the bowl sitting untouched next to me. He stares at me, then at the stew, as if it might contain poison. The mouse doesn’t hesitate. It scampers down to the ground and perches on the edge of the bowl.
Jeran looks like he might retch.
Adena makes an exaggerated cough at Red. “Just sit down and have some dinner,” she says. “Jeran here cooked it himself. You should probably show some enthusiasm.”
Jeran gives Red a nervous smile and says something to him in Karenese. Then he looks back at me and says, “I told him I’m a phenomenal cook.”
