“Huh. Okay, I’m going to take a minute to sit, then I’ll see if you need help out there.”

Razzle nodded. “Alright.” She turned to leave. “Supper worked. You did good.”

Grateful for the praise and encouragement, particularly since it came from a fifteen-year-old, Rosie smiled. “It worked because I had a great sous chef.”

Razzle cocked her head to the side. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Second in command in the kitchen.”

“Oh.” She grinned and opened the door to leave. Rosie heard her saying to her friends, “Hey. I’m the sous chef!”

A few adults came straggling in. Among them was one older male who was missing a leg, two females who were in the later stages of pregnancy, one younger male who had, apparently, been blinded, and an older female who was bent like her back had been broken and mended that way.

Rosie made another batch of ham and cheese biscuits for the new arrivals.

The children, younger and older, seemed to have adapted remarkably well to an event that would be considered terrifying in most societies. In any world. Rosie supposed that was what happened when it was the only way they’d ever known. She hoped things were being set in motion, in Free’s mind, to bring an end to that way of life.

She made herself a cup of bergamot tea, opened the small door on one of the stoves to expose the burning embers, then pulled up a chair and sat. She could hear noise through the solid wood door, but it was comparatively quiet in the kitchen. Closing her eyes as the first sip of tea hit her taste buds, she sat savoring the respite, mulling over everything that had happened since she woke that morning, and hoping the people she’d come to know would be returning safely.

She’d taken a thrilling ride to the wasteland, had a picnic with Carnal, attempted to ride a motorcycle by herself, and had corrected that disaster thereby exposing herself, exactly as she’d promised Kellareal she wouldn’t do. She’d watched Carnal set a signal fire, accepted a post as proxy caregiver for all of Exiled’s next generation, baked bread for the first time, and fed a warehouse full of hungry kids.Not a bad day’s work, she mused. Then her thoughts turned to what the kitchen helpers had said about Carnal and claiming.

Enjoying the feel of the warm cup in her hands, she asked herself if it could be true that Carnal was courting her and was not just after a ‘corn shuck’ stand. Imagining a possible future there in Newland with Carnal wasn’t hard, but the direction of those thoughts took her to Glen. She’d thought she loved Glen, but she concluded that, if Glen had returned her love, he wouldn’t have chosen Black Swan over her.

Those were the thoughts she was quietly turning over in her head when Razzle burst through the door.

“One of the little ones is hurt.”

Rosie set the cup down and rushed out into the large room, but Skirmish had the child in his arms and was bringing him into the kitchen.

“Set him down on the counter. There,” said Rosie pointing behind her.

The little boy appeared to be a level one or two. He’d fallen and split open a lip, that was bleeding profusely. Rosie grabbed one of the clean dish towels, wet it, and held the towel to the wound. The child watched her with big eyes, but didn’t speak and didn’t cry.

“What’s his name?”

“Rush,” Skirmish answered.

Rosie nodded. “Is there a first aid kit?”

Skirmish looked at Razzle, who said, “If there is, I think it would be in here.” She and Skirmish began opening and closing every cabinet, each taking a side of the big room.

“Rush.” Rosie spoke quietly and deliberately, taking care to keep the child calm, although that didn’t seem to be a problem for him. “We need to clean this up and make sure it’s just a little nick. Okay?” He nodded bravely. She pulled the towel away and saw that bleeding was slowing. She smiled to reassure him. “Hey. It’s getting better already.”

“Found it,” Skirmish called. He trotted over with a wicker basket and opened the lid.

Rosie leaned over to look inside. There were various sizes of cotton strips tied with ribbons and several glass jars. Rosie looked between the two level tens. “Either of you know what’s in these?”

“I don’t know the names, but this one,” he retrieved a jar that contained a gold-colored ointment, “is what Flora always uses when I get cuts like that.” He nodded toward Rush.

“Okay. Is there anything she uses to clean up first?”

“Uh, yeah.” He looked into the basket. “I think it’s this one.” He pulled out a jar of cloudy liquid. “She puts this on with a cotton thing first.

Rosie looked at Razzle. “We need to get you level tens trained in first aid if you’re going to be left in charge of these kids.”

Razzle nodded, but looked like she was taking that very seriously.

Rosie turned her attention back to Rush. After cleaning him up with water, she used the liquid Skirmish pointed out and dabbed it on Rush’s cut.