Page 31 of Little Fangs

I made Daddy Harlan scrambled eggs with cheese, not the wet ones Gordon Ramsay would make. My scrambled egg looked like little bits of popcorn, and they were delicious. I watched a lot of MasterChef in my room. I watched the US version, the UK one, Canada, and Australia. They all reminded me of foods I couldn’t fully ingest and savor. I could eat bits, here and there, but pigging out always meant I’d be puking my guts up—something I occasionally forgot until it was too late.

Harlan was already in his outside clothes when he got to the dining table in the kitchen. I was still in my onesie, looking him up and down as I filled a large bowl with scrambled egg—too much of it, and only two slices of toasted bread, no butter. I forgot. I wasn’t a MasterChef.

“I’ll buy more eggs when I’m out,” he said, sitting at the table, and before I could leave his side, he pulled me into his arms and kissed my neck and face. “Thank you for this. You’re an angel.”

I giggled. “Not quite, but I’ll take it.” I gave him a kiss and turned, doing a twirl on the slippery tile with my feetie pajamas. “What are you gonna do today?”

He was already digging into the egg, scooping spoons of it into his mouth and making noises—good noises. “I’ve got to check out a couple of places around, make sure nobody’s been out here causing issues, and make sure the trees are all looking good.” He smacked his lips, grabbing at a slice of dry toast. I couldn’t yank it out of his hands. “Then I’ll head into town.”

“It’s needs butter,” I grumbled.

“I like it dry,” he said, biting into it like he was proving a point. He spooned the scrambled egg onto it, most of it toppling back into the bowl. “This is delicious. I’m very hungry.”

I twirled for him again, like a little performance. A meal and show for him. “Thank you.”

“So, what are you gonna do today?”

“Maybe just—I don’t know, do you think I should go outside?” I came down on my knees in a skid, right in front of him. My favorite position to be in for him. Looking right at him from this angle.

“You can. You have the bracelets, right?” His cheek twitched as he smiled at me.

“But what if they’ve already got new ones and they come for me?” I asked him, pawing at the thick layer of clothing protecting him from the elements—and from me getting at his skin.

“Stay close to the house, stay close to Misty,” he said. “They’re scared of her.”

I looked around for her. “I’m sure that was a fluke.”

“You haven’t seen her hunt,” he said. “She’s a menace.” A small crumb landed in his facial hair. I stared at it, all smiles. I liked touching him, removing little things from him that didn’t belong, but also things that did belong on his face—like me.

She did hunt for me before, getting me that mouse. “I’ll find her.”

“Or she’ll find you,” he said with his mouth full of food. “Maybe she’ll even teach you to hunt.”

My eyes opened wider, as if peeled back by strong fingers. Realizations worked their way through my brain, figuring things out. “Maybe she could,” I whispered to myself. I’d never hunted anything before in my life, in fact, the only thing I’d ever tried hunting had kicked me in the face—it was a deer, and they were a little bit lethal.

After Harlan finished eating, he gave me the biggest kiss, then left. He didn’t say how long he’d be gone for, but there was a two-way radio. I hadn’t touched it since the first day he told me about it, but it was nice to know I could talk to him or hear his voice if I needed it.

Misty found me once Harlan left in his truck. She pounced on me from the shadows as I sat on the sofa, TV remote in hand, ready to settle in for morning cartoons. Apparently, that wasn’t allowed under Misty’s regime.

“Are you okay?” I asked as she pressed her heavy paws into my thigh. “You want something?” And again, her heavy paw came like she was responding. “The teddy’s in bed still. I think he needed some more time asleep.”

She pushed up onto me, her face in my face. She sniffed me before rubbing the side of her mouth against my jaw.

“What do you want to do today?” I asked her.

Of course, Misty was just a cat, and all she really did was press her paws into me, no claws. She was the biggest gray fluffball I’d ever seen, and I liked the way she gave me her warmth.

Part of me wished to laze the day away in the cabin, but the idea that Misty could teach me to hunt was something I wanted to entertain. And I did. I got dressed in some of the clothes we bought yesterday. The navy sweatpants and near-matching zip-up jacket—both comfy and warm.

Outside, we walked around the perimeter of the cabin. My fingers played and turned the three interlocked golden bracelets around my wrist. I’d wondered what they did with mine. They couldn’t still have had it, otherwise they would’ve been here during the day. Knowing them, they probably melted it down to a gold slab then sold it since Ludmila was no longer at the house and no longer footing the bill for their expenses.

Misty walked ahead of me, leading me, and then occasionally pushing me from behind, as if her big fluffy body tried to get between my legs.

I talked to her like she could understand, asking her questions she couldn’t answer—and sometimes answering them myself. In some way, I’d been through hell and back. I knew from Ludmila that there was a dark path people could follow, and it would lead them to an underworld of death. She never called it Hell—never confessed to anything I grew up believing about Heaven and Hell, only that they were half of the story, out of context. Faith and religion pieced together what they wanted to believe, and what they wanted to control people with.

Misty just meowed.

“Do you think I’d go there?” I asked her—and myself. I hadn’t done anything truly awful, but I’d witnessed it and taken advantage of it. I was an accomplice to awful. “I don’t want to be blamed for taking anyone’s life.”