Erica's Arc

Chapter 3 of 7

Deacon walked to the shed with his jug and his kind, tired eyes. Erica watched him go, then turned back to the step. Malia was still there, folded over her belly. But now she was crying. Small, hiccuping sobs. She was the youngest of the pack, the baby, and when the sickness took her she had no walls left to hide behind. "Hey," Erica said. She crouched down, though her own skin still burned with fever. "Hey. I've got you." "My stomach," Malia whispered. "It hurts so bad. It's worse than the others. It always is." Erica knew that was true. After the moon dropped, the whole pack got sick, but Malia flared hardest. Her body was the newest to the change. Erica pressed one hand flat against Malia's back and rubbed slow circles. "I know," she said. "Come inside. The step's cold." She got an arm under Malia and pulled. Her own stomach heaved, but she swallowed it down and kept lifting. They shuffled through the door of the cottage together, two sick girls holding each other up under the thatched roof. Erica steered her to the couch that faced the back wall, the one angled toward the old boxy television. Malia sank into the cushions and curled small. Erica pulled the blanket off the couch arm and tucked it over her, up to her chin. Sweat stood on Erica's own forehead. She was just as sick. But Malia was younger, and crying, and that settled it. "There," Erica said. She reached for the television and turned the dial. The screen buzzed and warmed to a soft cartoon, colors moving, a low friendly sound. "Something to watch. You don't have to think about your stomach." Malia's sobs slowed. Her eyes went to the screen. "You're sick too," she said. "You should lie down." "I will. In a minute." Erica sat on the floor beside the couch and leaned her head against the cushion. "I keep thinking. Deacon says we can't stay here. The shed's too close to the hunters." Malia sniffed. "Where would we even go?" "We don't have to move the pack anywhere," Erica said slowly. The idea came to her clear, through the fever. "We're only wolves on the full moon. The rest of the month we're just girls. Nobody hunts girls." She sat up straighter. "So the pack doesn't need a new home. They just need to be hidden on those three nights. Somewhere the hunters never look." Malia watched her from under the blanket. "You think that'll work?" "It has to," Erica said. "One safe place. Just for the moon." Malia's eyes drifted shut. Her breathing slowed and evened. The television murmured on. Erica pressed her hot forehead to the couch and let herself rest at last. She had stopped Malia's tears. And she had her answer. She only had to find the place, and convince Deacon it was enough.