39

Stella

The baby had been content and sleeping because the baby was full. For almost a full week now, since Minnie arrived, the house had been quiet, and everyone had seemed happier. Except for Remy and Ripley, but neither of them had been happy since we got to Emberwood. They didn't like being leashed or caged.

Sometimes I was happy, and sometimes I was numb, but always, always, always , I was hungry.

I had been hoping that now that my body wasn't the sole source of food for Rafaella that my appetite would go down as demand decreased. But that wasn't the case. If anything, I felt hungrier than ever before.

Every day, I ate as much as I could. Every person was rationed in communal living. But at night, when everyone in the house was asleep, I'd started sneaking into the pantry to eat anything could get my hands on.

At first, it had only been half a jar of cloudberry preserves or leftover dinner rolls Serg brought home from the cafeteria. But as my options decreased, my desperation only grew. Raw potatoes, a yellow onion, breadcrumbs, and a full mason jar's worth of tomato sauce were all things I consumed as frantic midnight snacks.

The morning after I had eaten the whole onion, I had heard the others whispering in the loft about it. Remy, Boden, and Serg had a secret discussion about how I was eating anything I could get my hands on. The solution seemed obvious to Remy, who told Serg to bring home more food from the cafeteria. Boden recommended everyone stop keeping anything in the house that they didn't want me to eat or that might not be healthy for humans to consume in large quantities.

None of them talked to me about it directly, and I pretended that I never heard them. It was not a conversation I wanted to have, especially because there was nothing to be done. I couldn't stop the hunger, and the scraps of food I did manage to find never satiated it.

I craved meat, thick hunks of elk or deer. Something red and juicy, as close to fresh as I could get it. Serg refused to serve me rare meat the way I wanted, because he insisted that wild game was too full of parasites to risk undercooking.

Last night, when Remy told us that she was leaving on another hunt, my first feeling had been jealousy, because she'd be eating her fresh kills around the campfire.

But I had to stay back with the baby, in a house where everyone was content and full except for me.

Sleep had been plentiful as of late, but it wasn't very restful. Every time I closed my eyes and let sleep overtake me, I dreamed of the voices.

Nightmares about zombies were nothing new. I had been having them for as long as I could remember. Gnashing teeth, hungry hands, and the scent of death and decay.

These recent dreams were different. There were no images, only sounds. Clear and vivid, even if they were only death groans and other zombie noises. Garbled breathing, grunts, moans, and their haunting howls.

Sometimes it sounded almost as if one of them was trying to speak. Not that any of their words made any sense. It was still only grunts and groans, but it had the cadence of speech.

But tonight, after the voices filled my head for hours, an image took form. The little boy I dreamt about before Rafaella was born, the one that I had first thought had been a vision of my son until my daughter arrived, and I knew I was wrong, because he was not Fae.

He was standing in the snow, pine trees surrounding him. His brilliant green eyes were staring straight ahead, looking straight through me.

I felt cold all the way through, deep inside my bones. Colder than the harshest days of winter, colder than a grave buried six feet below the earth, colder than death.

When I woke up, I sat upright with a jolt, and I was safe in my bedroom. Max slept soundly beside me, and the baby was asleep in her basinet. Our windows were closed, but the cold lingered inside me.

The hunger returned the moment I was awake, and I wrapped a sweater around my shoulders. Quietly, I slipped out of the room and crept out to find something to eat. Everyone was asleep, and a fire crackled in the woodburning stove.

Outside, I could see the snow falling heavy and fast in the moonlight. My stomach growled, and as I headed toward our meager pantry, my eyes landed on the bone on the floor.

It was a hefty femur of a mule deer, and Remy had brought it home on her last hunt for Ripley. It had still had tendons and meat stuck to it, but the lion had gnawed that off right away. She'd stripped it clean and broken it in half, trying to get at the tasty marrow in the center.

But she hadn't been able to get it all. Not yet. She didn't have long fingers or tools like I did, and my mouth was already watering at the thought of the bloody marrow.

I rushed over and grabbed the bone. I tried to shove my hand inside it, desperate to get any scrap of food, but the sharp broken edges dug into my skin, slicing open the back of my hand.

Behind me, the front door opened, and Boden came in, letting in the blustery air around him. Snowflakes clung to his hair and jacket.

I dropped the bone as a wave of shame rushed over me, and the clatter of it against the floor caused Boden to look at me in surprise.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." He was quiet and grave as he slipped off his boots and jacket.

"I thought you were sleeping or maybe at work," I said.

"No. I was over at Lazlo and Nova's farm," he replied, and he was staring off, not really looking at anything in particular.

"Why were you there? Did something happen with Minnie?" I asked.

"No. She's warm and safe in the shed." Boden looked over at me, really seeing me for the first time since he got home, and his eyes widened in alarm. "Stella, you're bleeding."

I glanced down, having forgotten entirely about the gash across the top of my hand. " Oh ." It didn't hurt, but the blood was dripping onto my nightgown, staining it red.

Boden grabbed a clean rag from the kitchen, and he rushed over to wrap my hand. "What happened?"

"I accidentally cut myself on Ripley's bone."

"I told Remy to throw that damn thing away the other day," Boden griped. "But she insisted that the cat would still get some use out of it."

"There is still marrow on the inside," I said, and my stomach rumbled.

He brought me over to the table, and we sat down as he cleaned and dressed my minor wound.

"Why were you at Lazlo's?" I asked.

"Because Remy and his wife are out on a hunt, and the unexpected snowstorm hit," Boden explained. "Lazlo and I are leaving at first light to help them get home."

"Remy will be okay. She always is," I reminded him.

"And the Titanic was unsinkable until it sunk," he muttered, and he looked up at me apologetically. "Sorry. I don't want to scare you, especially when I know you're probably right."

"It's okay that you're worried. I know how much you love her," I said.

He smiled wanly. "How are you, Stella?" And then his smile fell away. "I don't know why I asked. I know that you're not doing okay."

"No, I am," I lied. "It's just been… a lot of changes."

"I know. But I'll always love you and Fae, and I'll take care of you both, no matter what happens," he promised.