Wolfwater

by Alia Hess

  She wrote again, quickly, and pressed the note into his hand.

  “Dear, we didn’t get any crate of groceries. Who brought it here?”

  Dewbell’s nostrils flared and she signed.

  Corvin sighed. “I bet the guards confiscated it at the gate.”

  Trav pulled on his cloak, donning the hood. “These guards aren’t sitting well with me. It’s one thing to keep sharp objects or moonshine from getting through, but groceries? I’m going to pick up Son of Owl from my father’s house, then head over to Quietbird’s and see if I can get all this sorted out.”

  “Don’t know if that is good idea,” Sasha said. “If we complain, those guys probably harass us even more. I think having special treatment here is easy way to make us targets.”

  Dewbell’s brows pushed up and she tapped her closed hand against her lips.

  “We still get food,” Corvin said. “Just not a lot and it tastes terrible.”

  “Hang in there,” Trav said. “I’ll see what I can find out without making you targets.” He shot Sasha a stern look. “Find that razor of yours, Sasha.”

  Corvin nodded. “I concur. That beard is patchy as hell, pal. You look better without it.”

  Sasha rubbed his face. “Yeah, I know. Just been lazy. I’ll shave it off tonight. And that is good to suggest, Trav. Razor is good thing to have.”

  Trav and Dewbell said their goodbyes. Corvin pulled the cover off a large ceramic bowl at the end of the table. Sasha inhaled the spicy aroma of the rice and seafood dish within. Corvin set a cloth napkin and utensils in front of Sasha, dished him a large portion, then served himself and sat. “I’m going to savor every bite of this.”

  There was too much going on in Sasha’s mind—loss of communication with Dusty and what it could mean, crooked guards taking Dewbell’s gifts, and shiv-guy breaking into their hut—for him to enjoy the food, but he nodded in agreement anyway and picked up his fork.

  Sasha sat on the floor, rolling a fish tooth between his fingers and trying to tune out Corvin’s incessant humming.

  Maybe I should keep a journal like I used to when we were traveling to Nis. I wish I still had my tablet for that, though—recording an audio diary is much easier than writing things by hand. Plus, my handwriting is horrible. Maybe I should work on that, instead.

  Corvin stood at the back wall with a piece of drawing charcoal in his hand. “Sasha, look at this.” He pointed to graffiti, colorful in both hue and language, covering a large section of the wooden slats.

  “What about it?”

  “This hut has a lovely view of the ocean, but it’s ruined by all of this vulgar drivel.” Corvin tilted his head dramatically, squinting at the wall. “‘The gulls will guide, but mind the tide.’ That’s cryptic. What do you suppose that means?”

  “I think it mean some guy lose his mind in here.” Sasha stood and pointed at another phrase. “‘Your mom has nice melons.’” He laughed. “I know what that one mean for sure.”

  Corvin stood on his toes and dragged the charcoal in a wide sweep along the wall, outlining a shape and shading the inside with vigorous strokes.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Fixing the view.”

  If you’re drawing anything like the paintings you had in Hammerlink, I think I’d rather look at the obscenities.

  Corvin paused, rolling up the sleeves of his orange shirt. He crouched, making quick lines and using the side of the charcoal stick to color large areas. Whatever it was, it encompassed the whole wall. Black dust settled on the sleeping bag at his feet.

  Before long, the image took shape—long, flowing hair and bright, kind eyes, freckles and a coy smile. Dewbell’s face, larger than life, stared down like an ethereal goddess. Corvin stood back and put his hands on his narrow hips, admiring his work.

  “Looks like her, right?”

  “Just like her. Beautiful Dewbell.”

  Corvin grinned. “I’ll sleep better tonight now.”

  “You forgot to color part of her hair. Some words still coming through.” It was the strange phrase: The gulls will guide, but mind the tide.

  “Yes, I know. It’s mysterious. I like it.” He sat against the wall, staring at the mural. “I could really go for some more of her tender loving right now.”

  Sasha raised his eyebrows. A comment like that was commonplace for himself, but for Corvin, it bordered on oversharing, especially after he’d chastised Sasha for bringing it up earlier.

  He sat next to Corvin and flicked the fish tooth across the floor. “I miss Dusty.”

  Gulls squawked outside and the breeze whistled through the gaps in the walls. Corvin frowned at a snag in the knee of his trousers. “Sasha…” He pulled in a breath and looked away.

  “What?”

  “Nevermind.”

  “What you want to say?”

  Corvin bit his lip. “You’re my best friend, and… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I just—it’s hard, y’know?”

  Sasha creased his brow. “Is it something going to mess up our friendship?”

  “I…” Corvin glanced at him, then scratched at the charcoal under his thumbnail. “I don’t know.”

  Sasha leaned back and stared at the ceiling, his throat tight. “You going to tell me you killed somebody and buried them in your backyard or something?”

  Corvin scoffed. “No. Nothing like that.”

  “Did you… sleep with my wife?”

  “God, no. Of course not.”

  “Then I think I can handle whatever you want to tell me.” I hope.

  Sasha dug grains of sand out of the crease in his pant leg. Laughter drifted from somewhere outside. He scooted away from the wall until he was facing Corvin. “Lay it on me. I’m ready.”

  Corvin rubbed his face. “I don’t know if I’m ready… I’ve never told anyone this but Dewbell. It’s not—well, I guess it doesn’t really matter that much, but you’re my best friend, and I want you to know.”

  “Sounds like it matters a lot, actually.”

  “I, uh, I’m not just attracted to women. To men too. I’m bisexual.” Corvin swallowed and pulled at the snag in his pants.

  Sasha smiled, relieved. “This is what you were worried to tell me? I guess this about you long time ago.”

  Corvin looked up. “You did?”

  “Yeah, and you are my friend if you like womans, guys, or both. It’s not matter to me. Hard thing for you to say, though, huh?”

  Corvin nodded.

  “Well, thank you for telling me. Dewbell, she don’t care, yeah? It don’t bother her.”

  “No. It doesn’t bother her. You know how she is. So understanding of everything. Do you remember when we were traveling to Nis and found that truck on the side of the road during the storm?”

  “Truck Two. Yeah.”

  “And Dewbell made some joke about me and Gentlewave and I got upset about it?”

  “Yeah, I remember that too. Car ride was little awkward.”

  Corvin chuckled. “Yeah. Well, she wanted me to talk to her about it, and I didn’t want to, but I ended up telling her that night. She didn’t even bat an eye. I knew then that I loved her.” He paused, then gave Sasha a quick glance and stood up. “Anyway, that was it.”

  Sasha hopped to his feet and smiled. “It’s good, Corvin. Dewbell is good for you and you make her happy.” He cocked his head. “You never tell this to Owl? You don’t say lot of stuff to her, huh?”

  Corvin pushed his long bangs aside. “I have a hard time telling Owl things. Not because I don’t want to, but she’s my little sister and I don’t want to burden her.”

  “She is only two years younger than you.”

  “I know, but I always kind of looked out for her when we were kids. We didn’t have the greatest parents—our mom loved us, but our dad… I tried to get along with them both when we lived in Hammerlink, but it was difficult. And I’ve never wanted to tell her what happened to me with the highwaymen. She doesn’t need to know about
that.”

  Sasha looked at his feet. I already told Owl that story a long time ago.

  Corvin shrugged. “I don’t have any reason not to tell her about my sexuality, though. I’ll tell her when she gets back. Although, if it was that obvious to you, I’m sure she already knows.”

  “She probably still be glad to hear it from you.”

  He nodded and looked around the hut. “It’s almost dinner time, is it not? I wish I wouldn’t have had so many helpings of Dewbell’s cooking at lunch—now it’s gone and I have to resort to eating whatever the guards give us.”

  Sasha’s stomach churned. “Adventure of the day, huh?”

  “Yuck.”

  They left, heading for a small building near the gate. Sasha mulled over Corvin’s sudden openness. How long had he been thinking about bringing this up? When they were traveling to Nis, Sasha had asked him a personal question and received a creepy smile and a veiled threat in return. Corvin’s flashy, fake-friendly veneer had chipped away over time, though; his easier way with Sasha was surprising, but not at all unwelcome.

  A handful of detainees stood in a line trailing out the cafeteria door. This had to be the most people here at once for dinner. Were more people committing crimes on Tam recently? Or had Palesun neglected to transfer them?

  Sasha stuffed his hands in his pockets. Beyond the huts and dirty skiff of sand, water hit the rocks, hurling spray into the air. It receded, pulling kelp and garbage back out to sea.

  Mind the tide.

  What did the first half of that phrase say? Something about seagulls?

  A commotion in the line ahead drew his mind away from jailhouse poetry. Two men were grappling, their fists twisted in each other’s shirts, while a guard stood by, watching with his arms crossed. One man slugged the other, knocking him down. He planted a knee in his chest, his fists flying. The guard strolled leisurely toward the fight, looking disinterested. Other prisoners skirted around the scuffle, keeping their places as the line inched through the building door.

  The guard yawned. “Alright. That’s enough.”

  The man on top continued throwing his bloody fists as the other inmate put up his hands in defense.

  “I said that’s enough.” The guard sighed as the beating continued. He slipped his club from his waistband and cracked it hard against the attacker’s skull. Sasha flinched. The man sagged to the side and the beaten inmate beneath him scooted away, his face bloody and swollen.

  Corvin set his jaw, his hand slipping into the front pocket of his trousers. The guard whistled and the two from the front gate stepped down the embankment and dragged the men away.

  The food line continued to move. Corvin took a long stride over the blood in the sand. Sasha stepped around it as well, glancing at the guard. He eyed Sasha, his previously indifferent face tightening with contempt.

  A gravelly voice came from behind them. “You know, when we get sent to Pearlolla, that sort of thing will happen all the time.”

  Sasha turned around. A man—the same man Sasha had met on the beach—stood behind Corvin. He smiled, bunching the pink scar on his cheek. “Hi again, Sasha. Hi, Corvin.”

  Corvin frowned. “How do you know our names?”

  Sharkguts’ smile fell away. He looked pointedly at Sasha. “I thought you were going to tell Corvin about our arrangement?”

  “Well, I…” Sasha looked from Sharkguts to Corvin. He’d never arrange anything with this creepy prisoner. “There was little bit misunderstanding. This is Sharkguts. I meet him last week. He say he can protect us for… favors.”

  Corvin curled his lip and turned up his nose. “Thanks, but no thanks.” He walked into the dim building. Sasha followed him, hoping to put distance between them and Sharkguts. Men stood behind the long counter with large containers of food. When Corvin approached the counter, one of the servers pulled a tray off the stack beside him and slopped on a portion of… something. Black and green chunks swam in a watery cream sauce.

  Corvin looked up. “What is this?”

  “Dinner.” The Islander dished Sasha a portion and pushed the tray across the counter. Sasha scanned the faces around him in the little building, but didn’t see Sharkguts. Maybe they could make it back to their hut without having to talk to him again.

  A large basket of rolls sat nearby. Corvin grabbed three and a man behind the counter smacked his hand with a ladle.

  “One. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  Corvin grumbled and dropped the extra rolls, taking a large bite from the one in his hand. Sasha stuffed his own roll in his mouth, afraid someone might swipe it when he wasn’t looking. If that happened, he might starve to death since the slop on his tray looked more like vomit than anything else and he wasn’t eager to try it.

  They carried their trays outside, headed back for their hut. Previously, they had taken turns retrieving meals for the both of them, afraid to leave the hut unlocked with all their items inside. However, Sasha had figured out how to pick the lock on the door so they could leave it locked when they were both out. The knowledge that he could do it so easily was both comforting and disconcerting. Surely it wouldn’t be hard for someone else to do the same thing. He’d had some silly notions about rigging up a security system—electrifying the doorknob and creating an alarm—but it was too much work and the guards would likely dismantle it anyway.

  Corvin prodded the amalgamation on his tray. He sniffed it, then scooped up a spoonful and hesitantly put it in his mouth.

  Sasha stopped, his gaze glued to Corvin. “Well?”

  Corvin chewed with a pinched face. “It’s salty. And the things in the sauce are crunchy. It’s not… horrific, but if I wasn’t so hungry right now, I wouldn’t be eating it.”

  “You are always hungry.” Sasha sipped his water as inmates passed them.

  Sharkguts stopped next to them and Sasha’s chest tightened. The Islander shoved a spoonful of slop into his mouth. “Spider stew ain’t my favorite either. Thank God they don’t make it that often.”

  Corvin paused, a big spoonful close to his mouth. “Did you say spider stew?”

  Sasha’s stomach groaned. He tilted his tray, scraping the slop onto Corvin’s. “Here, you can have mine. I am not hungry.”

  I’m starving. Maybe this roll and water will fill me up for a while. My pants aren’t going to stay up for much longer at this rate.

  Even when the meals were passable, the portions weren’t very big. Coupled with only being fed twice a day (unless Dewbell happened to bring them something), both he and Corvin had grown noticeably thinner.

  Corvin sat on a crooked wooden bench near the fence and set his tray beside him. “So, er, Sharkguts, might I ask why you’re here?”

  Now’s not the time for small talk, Corvin. Let’s get the hell out of here. Sasha stared at Corvin, willing him to look his way, but Corvin’s attention was on a snag in the sleeve of his shirt.

  Sharkguts took a bite out of his roll. “Oh, I’ve been accused of a lot of things, but I’m innocent, of course.” He grinned and took a seat next to Corvin. “What about you guys?”

  Sasha shared a glance with Corvin. “Eh, long story.”

  “Must be. Couple of Mainlanders stuck in Slag Village. The guards don’t like Mainlanders much. Especially Halfmoon. That’s the real big guard always standing by the gate.”

  “The fat, ugly one,” Sasha said.

  Sharkguts laughed. “Yeah, that’s the one. I’m telling you guys, you’ll need my help here. I don’t ask for much.” He gave Corvin an unsettling grin, revealing his filed teeth.

  Corvin cleared his throat, face pale. “I think we’re good. Thanks.”

  “Such a nice shirt you have on, brother.” Sharkguts caressed the front of Corvin’s orange shirt and tugged at one of the buttons.

  Corvin jerked away, knocking his food tray into the sand and backing into Sasha. His chest heaved, eyes wide. “How—how dare you!”

  “I was only—”

  “Only try
ing to—to unbutton my shirt!” Corvin’s lip trembled and he gripped Sasha’s arm. “How dare you touch me.”

  “Whoa. I don’t think he mean it like that,” Sasha said.

  Corvin shook, clutching himself and staring at Sharkguts. “You stay away from me. C’mon, Sasha.” He strode away in a hurry, headed for their hut.

  Poor guy. Probably having highwaymen flashbacks. At least we have an excuse to get out of here now.

  “Um, sorry.” Sasha scratched his head. “My friend is little bit… sensitive. And he been stressed out in here anyway, you know? Had some guy attack him and stuff.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, my offer still stands.” Sharkguts grinned.

  “Thanks, but I don’t think that is good idea. You know, because of my friend. We’ll be okay.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, alright, brother. I’m going to find an empty hut. See you later.” Sharkguts stood, taking a bite of his roll and walking away.

  Sasha watched him go, then headed back for the hut. “Creep.”

  8

  ~ Dorhn’li ~

  Owl leaned back in the numbingly-cold water, rubbing a small piece of soap across her goosebump-covered skin. Her teeth chattered and she looked at Dusty, floating in the stream next to her.

  “This water is freezing. But I was afraid I was starting to smell like that monster we killed.”

  Dusty smiled through her shivers. “I went without plumbing most of my life. I feel so spoiled having it at home.” She shut her eyes. “And my drip-cooler. Filled with cake. And pickles.”

  Owl chuckled. “I craved barbequed crickets when I was pregnant. I don’t even like crickets.”

  “Oh, I’m so hungry now. I guess fish will have to do.” Dusty dipped her hair back in the water and then stood, sloshing through the stream. “I don’t think I can sit in here any longer anyway.”

  “Me either.” Owl wrung out her long hair and pushed up, her feet sliding against the slippery, algae-covered rocks at the bottom. She turned for the bank, then fell back into the water in surprise. Two men stood at the tree line, dressed in leather tunics and fur coats, their red hair tied in braids.

  Owl covered her breasts with her arm, wide-eyed.