Buck Wyld's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Buck needed an answer before the stranger came any closer to the main cabin. He had a structure at the edge of the clearing—a small shack with a porch held up by two carved pillars shaped like muscular men, something the group built when they had time and lumber to waste. It stood between the hideout and the world outside, a place where someone could wait without seeing what mattered. He pointed the woman toward it and watched her walk. Her boots left deep prints in the dirt, the kind that showed she'd been standing in one spot for a long time before he came down to meet her. Inside the shack, Buck set an old ear trumpet on the bench between them. It was decorative, carved with patterns no one here had time to appreciate, left behind by someone passing through years ago. He didn't say what it was for. He just watched her look at it. Most people would ask, or pick it up, or ignore it completely. She sat still, hands folded, eyes on him instead of the object. That told him something—she wasn't curious about things, only about people. Buck asked her why she came. She said she needed shelter, that someone told her this was the kind of place that didn't ask too many questions. He asked who told her. She shook her head. He asked if she understood what it meant to be here, that the people inside didn't owe her anything and wouldn't protect her from her own mistakes. She said she understood. He looked at the trumpet again, then at her hands. They were empty, patient. She hadn't touched anything that wasn't hers. He told her she could stay in the shack until he found the person who sent her. She didn't argue or thank him. She just nodded. Buck left her there and walked back toward the main cabin, knowing he'd bought himself time but not trust. The traitor was still inside, and now there was a stranger at the edge of everything he'd built. He'd let her in, but only far enough to see what she did when no one was watching.