Page 25 of The Hunger
“Stop talking, please. I’m going to throw up. I’m only here to check on the baby.”
“You mean my baby. He’s no concern of yours.”
“Giving birth to a child doesn’t make it yours. Loving and caring for it does.”
Dewy surged forward again, pulling four brownies along a few inches before they managed to stop her.
“The baby’s here, Eliana,” Piepen said, emerging from the marshes with the child in his arms. It wore an adorable brown shirt and tan pants, and its alert, brown eyes watched me as Piepen approached.
Dewy started screaming obscenities at me. I turned my dark gaze on her once more.
“Speak civilly in front of children or lose your tongue.”
Her eyes went wide, and she fell quiet.
The baby burbled, drawing my attention. I was aware of the more than one hundred sets of brownie eyes on me as I smiled at the infant.
“He’s okay,” Piepen said. “I couldn’t take him where you said, though.” His gaze shifted to Dewy briefly. “But I have help. I’m keeping him safe like you asked.”
“He’s not your baby,” Dewy screeched. “You have no right. I want my baby back.”
“Will you love him and care for him? Will you keep him safe? That means his wings stay attached until he’s old enough to have babies of his own. Speak only the truth.”
Dewy opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“That’s what I thought,” I said.
“You have no right to tell us how to raise our children or what to do with our wings,” a voice called from the reeds.
My gaze swept over the outlying marshes, and I saw hundreds of brownies clinging to the stalks they’d climbed. Wingless, they couldn’t join the brownies buzzing around me. And they weren’t all older like Piepen. I saw children, too. So many had already surrendered their wings, willingly or not.
I ached for them.
“Our wings are ours to do with what we want. If we need to sell them so we can eat, then we will,” a woman yelled. “It’s spiteful and foolish for me to say I’d rather watch my child starve than surrender her wings.”
“That’s exactly what this tuft-hugging petal-pusher wants us to do.” Dewy glared at me. “You might have tricked Piepen with your fancy house and ginormous underwear, but you can’t trick all of us. We know how many brownies live in fancy houses. None! Get your lying, cheating, man-stealing milk-makers—”
One of the brownies holding Dewy clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late.
Anger rose, hot and furious, as I finally fully understood their situation. They were allowed to live in Uttira, forgotten and uncared for, while I’d had everything given to me once I’d come here. Food, clothes, a phone, a car, an education…
Shaking with my hate of the Council, I dialed Megan.
“I need your help,” I said when she answered.
“What’s up?”
I struggled for a moment, trying to find the right words.
“Eliana?”
“I’ve never been this angry before,” I said. “I’m shaking with it.”
“What happened?”
“I’m at the marshes. I wanted to check on the baby.”
“Is it okay?”
