Wolves and War

by Candy Rae

Tara slept late.

  When she emerged from the small bedroom and peeked into the living space she spied Kolyei sitting by the fireside, a crowd of enraptured children at his feet in front of and beside him.

  : Holding court? :

  Kolyei grinned. He did so love an audience.

  Janice realised her youngest guest was awake and sprang to her feet.

  “Tara,” she cried, “a thousand welcomes. Did you sleep well? Would you like some breakfast?”

  Kolyei’s ‘audience’ turned to stare at her.

  “Yes please,” she answered shyly.

  “Breakfast first, then a bath,” decided Janice aloud as she bustled towards the stove, shooing aside the smallest children who had taken up temporary residence there, “and a change of clothes. Those are in tatters.”

  Tara looked at her ruefully. “I did my best.” She well knew that her own clothes were in a pitiful state and none too clean after the journey.

  “You did well,” smiled Janice, “and that fur vest, did you make it yourself?”

  “With Emily’s help,” admitted Tara.

  “Emily Stanton?” queried Janice. “No doubt her mother will be here shortly. She is anxious for news and I’ll not be surprised if other parents appear as well.”

  “Emily is fine,” answered Tara, sitting down at a hastily vacated space at the table and eyeing the plate Janice set in front of her. She was trying hard not to be bothered by the rapt and envious faces gazing at her.

  Janice, realising that Tara was uncomfortable with so many staring eyes, made haste to ask the children to leave, promising that they could come back later. They left with many a reluctant complaint.

  Soon only the five Randall offspring remained, sitting round the table with Janice and Tara.

  “This is Louis,” Janice began, “my oldest.”

  Louis winked at Tara.

  “Brian is next, he is thirteen, then Violet, Lucy and Juliet.”

  “We’ve been velly quiet,” announced the middle daughter.

  “Wif Kolyei,” added the youngest, a mite of around three years, Tara judged.

  “Shush,” ordered the oldest damsel and she introduced herself with a shy smile, “I am Violet and I’m nine.”

  Kolyei watched Tara eat then announced that he must go and find Jim, Larya and Afanasei.

  “We’ll take you,” offered Louis after a glance at Brian.

  Janice nodded. “You do that. Tara, the girls and I have important matters to attend to. She looked meaningfully at Violet who giggled and leant confidentially towards Tara.

  “Mummy has new clothes for you,” she whispered.

  “Pwetty clothes,” agreed Juliet.

  Tara coloured.

  Janice saw this; there was little she missed where children were concerned.

  “As I said earlier, you’ve done brilliantly to hold on to them for so long,” she comforted with a pat on Tara’s head. “What is the fur vest made of? Camel?”

  “Kura,” answered her small guest.

  “Kura?” the sisters clamoured. “What is that?”

  What remained of the morning sped by, first with the promised bath, then a wonderful hour spent trying on the clothes Janice had gathered together. Brian had donated his second best pair of trousers and Violet an embroidered tunic she hadn’t worn yet.

  Luckily, thought Janice, as she gathered together Tara’s new possessions and put them in the wooden chest she was to share with Violet, Tara was on the small side so Violet’s underthings would do for both. Hand knitted socks and a pair of new boots completed Tara’s outfit. Janice then proceeded to trim her hair into a becoming style and sat back, well satisfied with the results.

  “You’ll do.”

  Tara regarded her hostess shyly. “Thank you so much,” she managed to get out. Her throat felt tight. It had been a long time since she had been fussed over like this.

  “We will all now prepare lunch,” Janice declared, realising that Tara needed time to compose herself. “The boys and Kolyei will be back soon I expect and hopefully your father too.”

  “Soon,” ventured Tara. Her head was set in the peculiar little tilt that Janice would come to recognise as her having a telepathic conversation with Kolyei. “Kolyei says soon.”

  Janice was startled, but recovered almost at once. “I forgot you can converse telepathically,” was all she said though.

  “It’s useful, isn’t it Mummy?” asked Violet.

  “Very useful,” Janice agreed. “Now, who is going to volunteer to cut up the roots and who will set the table?”

  “I will.” Four hands rose into the air.

  It is good, thought Tara as she helped Violet ladle the cooked roots into the serving platter, to be part of a family again, even for a little while.

  Lunch reached Tara’s expectations and beyond. She sat between Violet and Brian and munched her way through the succulent stew, cooked the way only Janice knew how. It was delicately seasoned and melted in the mouth. Even Kolyei partook of the stew though he declined the fresh bread, baked by Janice in the small bake-oven she had insisted Winston build. Tara learned later that Janice was considered the best cook in their district.

  Kolyei made the acquaintance of what the settlers called lemon root, something that even he had never eaten before. It was poisonous raw and the Lind could not cook. Both he and Tara learned that, if one cut off the lethal spiky stalks and baked the flesh underneath, it was absolutely delicious.

  “I’ve got used to cooking manually,” Janice confided to Tara, “and Arthur Knott has a working model of what he calls a cooking-range. I’m looking forward to getting one when he gets the time to make some more.”

  “I fear you’ll wait a long time,” said Winston. “His smithies will be producing other items now.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, not stopping from spooning another helping of stew into Brian’s bowl. “You didn’t tell me much last night.”

  “War is coming,” her husband answered. “Jim brought grave news. Arthur Knott will be kept busy making swords and axes now.”

  Janice threw a quick glance at Tara who had stopped munching. She had said nothing about the coming war.

  Winston noticed and made haste to put her at ease.

  “You did right to say nothing love,” Winston told her. “Best that the news comes from Stuart MacIntosh and the rest of the Council. There are rumours enough already. Peter Crawford is young and was a bit indiscreet last night.”

  “War? What war? Who is there on this planet that wages war? Who will we have to fight?” asked Louis.

  The Randall children were staring at their father, wide eyed.

  “Creatures from the southern continent called the Larg,” he explained.

  “Like those beasts that destroyed…?”

  “The Armstrong farmstead? Yes, the very same. There are thousands of them and that’s not all.”

  “It’s the convicts from the Electra isn’t it?” asked Louis. “I heard some people talking this morning,” he added by way of explanation.

  “The Electra?” said Janice sharply. “The prison ship? But it was destroyed. Everybody knows that.”

  “It appears that she survived as we did, and has to our cost I fear, landed on Rybak too.”

  Tara however had another matter on her mind.

  “What was that you said about the Armstrongs?” she asked.

  * * * * *