“There’s a lot more to see.”
We walked through the building together, my mother asking questions that had changed from skeptical to curious. She commented on the organization, the cleanliness, and the obvious care in every detail. Krem’s labels on every cabinet. Traig’s color-coded filing system. The way Drogar had arranged the supply room so everything had a designated space.
“This is very well maintained,” she said, a touch surprised.
“We take our responsibilities seriously,” Brovish said from behind us.
Sofia remained on my mother’s shoulder, occasionally making a soft trilling sound that seemed to soothe my mother’s nerves.
We passed the mossnibbles’ enclosure, and one of them darted out through a gap, scaled my mother’s leg, and stole her bracelet before anyone could react.
“Oh!” My mother yelped, reeling backward, grabbing for her bare wrist. “What on earth was that?”
The mossnibble whistled, deposited the bracelet in its nest, and returned for more treasures. It sat in front of my mother and studied the rest of her jewelry.
They’d found a new way out of their pen. We kept locating gaps in the mesh and even a narrow, underground tunnel, and filled it in. Then they escaped again.
A second mossnibble appeared from behind a fence post, eyeing my mother’s earrings.
“No,” I said. “Not happening.”
It whistled and retreated. For now.
“Do they understand English?” my mother asked.
I shrugged. “They understand a warning tone well enough. They simply choose to ignore it sometimes. Let me get your bracelet back.”
“No, it’s fine,” she said, though her voice was still a little high. She watched the mossnibble arrange her jewelry among its other stolen goods, shaking her head. “It seems happy there.”
We moved on.
A fizzling sparked near us but didn’t discharge, just following our movement with its bright eyes. Gerald rumbled from his enclosure when we passed. The vellicharm, Duchess Filandra, actually dipped her head in acknowledgment when my mother stopped to look at her.
“They seem to respond to you,” I said. “They like you.”
“Or they’re very polite for wild creatures.”
We reached Abagail’s enclosure and my mother stopped walking.
The twins were nursing, tucked against their mother’s side. The larger one had closed her eyes in contentment. The smaller one kept pausing to look around, making sure everything was safe before returning to her meal.
My mother stood at the fence for a long time, while I explained about the cave birth.
“You delivered these,” she said, her voice careful.
“We did. In the woods.”
“In a cave,” she said. “In the rain. At night. Without proper facilities. That was awfully unsafe, Laina. Were you scared?”
“Terrified,” I said. “And certain at the same time.”
I’d delivered animals with my father since I was sixteen, and she’d never once asked if I was scared back then. She’d asked if I was prepared, if I had backup, and if I’d followed protocol. Never if I was afraid of what I did or the outcome.
“Your father always said fear and certainty could exist in the same space,” she said softly. “That the best vets learned to work with both.”
I was surprised she’d remembered that about him.
“Walk me through it,” she said, her gaze returning to the suckling twins. “The medical risks. How you knew what to do.”
