Page 39 of Fat Forced Mate

"You don't belong here," Tania continues. "Everyone knows the lottery was a mistake. Nic certainly thinks so."

I falter momentarily but recover quickly. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to finish."

"He was just starting to get over you, you know," she presses. "Then you had to come back and ruin everything. Again."

Something in her tone makes me look up. There's genuine anger there, not just the petty cruelty I remember.

"What are you talking about?"

Tania opens her mouth to respond, but Melissa appears suddenly, cutting her off. "Don't waste your breath on her, T. She's not worth it."

But I've seen enough to understand. The pointed looks between them, the genuine bitterness in Tania's voice. Something happened while I was gone—something involving Nic.

I return to my potatoes, mind racing, but I'm distracted enough that the peeler slips, slicing into my finger.

"Shit," I mutter, watching blood well up from the cut.

"Language," Melissa snaps automatically, then frowns when she sees the blood. "Great, now you're contaminating the food."

"It's fine, I'll—" I begin, but give up. There’s no talking to them. I press a tissue to the wound and close my eyes, breathing, steeling myself.

"I'll get the first aid kit," one of the younger kitchen helpers offers.

"No need," I say quickly. "It's just a scratch."

I finish the potatoes without further incident, then move on to chopping carrots, then stirring the massive pots of stew. The work is demanding enough to keep me focused, and by the time lunch service begins, I've almost forgotten why I came here.

Almost.

As I help serve the hungry line of pack members, Melissa approaches with a large tureen of stew.

"Not bad work for a half-breed," she says, and it takes me a moment to realize it's probably the closest thing to a compliment I'll get from her. "But no token from me."

I hadn't expected one. "That's fine."

"I want to see you fail this trial," she continues, voice low enough that only I can hear. "Maybe then you'll finally leave for good, and things can go back to normal."

"Normal for whom, Melissa? You? Nic?" I keep my voice equally quiet.

Her eyes flash dangerously. "You don't know anything."

"I know enough." I meet her gaze steadily. "I didn't come back by choice, remember? I was perfectly happy never seeing any of you again."

Something flickers across her face—hurt, maybe, though that seems impossible.

"Just stay away from my brother," she says finally. "You've done enough damage."

Before I can respond, she walks away, leaving me with questions I'm not sure I want answered.

***

The afternoon brings both progress and setbacks. I earn tokens from the school teacher for organizing art supplies, from the elderly pack healer for updating her reference materials with new herbal remedies, and from the gruff blacksmith for helping design a more efficient tool rack.

But I'm turned away from the pack nursery (too dangerous to have a witch around children, apparently) and the textile workshop (where the owner still blames me for a fire that happened when I was twelve and not even present).

By late afternoon, I have nine tokens and a growing sense of exhaustion. My magic feels strangely twitchy, responding to my fatigue with unpredictable surges that I'm finding harder tocontrol. After helping repair a fence at the community garden—and earning my tenth token—I decide to take a break, retreating to a quiet spot behind the old storage sheds.

The solitude is blissful. I lean against the rough wooden wall, allowing myself a moment of vulnerability. My hand drifts to my still-flat stomach.

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