CHAPTER SEVEN

The quiet village that had come to feel familiar and comfortable to Rosie was in a state that could only be called barely controlled chaos. Every soul was actively engaged in some manner of preparation or another.

Carnal dragged her off the bike and pushed her in the opposite direction. “Go to the Weavers’ Barn,” he said. “They can use your help taking care of the young.”

Rosie entered just as Serene was exiting in a hurry. She was dressed in leathers and looked more like a warrior than a school principal. “Oh, Rosie, good. Help take care of the little ones.”

With that she was gone. The classes were empty so Rosie continued moving toward the back. The students were all together in the lunchroom. Looking around, she saw that she was the oldest one there. It appeared that the older children were caring for those who were younger.

Looking at the oldest, the level tens, she asked, “What needs to be done?”

One of the girls said, “We’re going to need to feed them in a couple of hours.”

“What’s your name?”

“Razzle.”

“I’m Rosie.”

“I know.”

“Okay. I’ve never cooked for this many people before, but I’ll give it a try. Do you have a count?”

Razzle looked over the group and started counting. One of the level twos dashed across the room.

“Nobody moves until Razzle has finished counting!” One of the level ten boys raised his voice and the kids, looking at him like he was a god, instantly obeyed. He smiled at Rosie, “Hi. I’m Skirmish. Make extra for me. I’m still growing.”

“I’ll try.”

“A hundred and sixteen,” Razzle said, “Counting me. Oh, but not counting you. That would be a hundred and seventeen.”

“Alright. If you’ve got this,” Rosie indicated the small crowd that represented the entire future of Exiled, “I’ll head back to the kitchen and see what’s there.”

“We’ve got this,” Skirmish said. “We’ve done it lots of times.”

“Lots of times,” Rosie repeated, looking around and wondering what it must have been like, living their whole lives at-the-ready. “Are there no other adults who will be staying behind?”

“There are a few. They’ll help get the others away and come after.”

Rosie nodded before moving toward the back. The level two, three, and four children who had gotten used to her when she visited their classrooms called out to her as she passed, smiling, and proudly telling others that they knew the human.

The kitchen was well stocked with baking supplies and shelves of canned goods. That included hams.

When Razzle poked her head in, Rosie asked, “Any restrictions?”

“What do you mean?” Razzle asked.

“Well, is there anything here that I shouldn’t use or shouldn’t use much of?”

“No.” Razzle looked around. “Everything that’s here can be replaced. It’s part of the battle tax.”

“I don’t know about the battle tax.”

“The humans pay us to protect them.”

“Oh. I guess that’s fair.”

“Damn right,” Razzle confirmed.