The deer had been healthy and well grazed, so there was a lot of meat to harvest. Luckily, Max and Zeke had each brought a clean tarp with them in case they'd been successful.

Zeke was the one who got down to business. He wasn’t at all squeamish about butchering, and carried a well-sharpened piece of metal he used as a big knife which cut easily through hide and bone. He wasn't the neatest butcher, but between him and Morgan they were able to gut the carcass, remove the head, and start separating the best cuts of meat for packing.

Max “volunteered” to keep watch just in case any of the animals came back… or something. He stood a good fifteen feet away, his back turned to the mess. Seemed he was happy to do the shooting, but not to do the actual work.

Al looked over the harvesting process with open curiosity. He was delighted when Zeke pointed out the liver and offered it to him. It was still steaming warm.

Ducking her head, Morgan hid a grin. Zeke had just made a friend for life.

Zeke was the type who liked to chat as he worked, his hands bloody to the elbow. “I never figured how hard hunting would be without a gun. Me and Max have been trying to bag something for weeks. I used to hunt with my dad, and we weren’t successful all the time, but coming back empty day after day was getting stupid.”

"Why?" Morgan asked. “Isn't there enough to eat at the village?" There were around two-hundred and fifty kids from her school. Had they already stripped the immediate area of food?

Max answered, his back still turned. “Only so much fruit and nuts I could take. I need real meat. Fish doesn't count."

"Rabbits?"

Max shrugged. "Couldn't catch 'em. Been practicing with my crossbow, but they're fast and they blend in."

Morgan had been able to catch a few rabbits with snares. With a flash of guilt, she realized she had never shared the technique. No one had asked—they’d just depended on her to add a rabbit to the stewpot every few days—but she hadn't gone out of her way to teach anyone, either.

She would have to do better.

After the butchering was done and she and Zeke had washed their hands in a nearby pool, they packed up the usable meat.

The deer had been easily a hundred pounds. The usable meat was less, but it was a lot to carry back, even between two people. Since Morgan had a broken wrist, and Max and Zeke were too intimidated to ask Al to carry anything, the boys ended up being the pack mules. Luckily, they insisted the village wasn’t that far.

Morgan and Al volunteered to scout the path ahead. It also gave them time to talk without being oveheard.

"Why are we returning with them?" Al asked, cocking his head at her. "Isn't the male you want in the second nest?"

"Village, not nest,” she corrected, feeling the tips of her hears burn with embarrassment. "And it's not like that. Lucas isn't the male I want."

But he was, wasn't he?

Worse, Al had a good point. She could have easily asked Max or Zeke for directions to Donut's village. She probably still could. They owed her one for the deer.

But what if Lucas had gotten sick from his injury? What if he was in pain? She had promised to bring back medicine and help. But she had nothing. Only bad news and more questions than answers.

She couldn’t face him. Not yet.

"I need to find out what happened while I was gone. I can trust Timberly to tell me the truth—She's Max's girlfriend," she clarified. "If Max stayed in Colton's village, she did too."

It even sounded like the truth.

Al did the raptor equivalent of a shrug. "The two nests split. It happens among my people when a strong-willed female rises up, or too many eggs are clutched in one season. The daughter nest splits from the mother, headed by a new Matron."

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She smiled to herself. Colton and Donuts would be thrilled to learn they were the raptor version of Matrons.

"Strong-willed female?" she repeated. "Sounds a little like Timberly. She doesn't take attitude from anyone. Leah, my other friend... she's quieter, but as soon as she can understand what you're saying, she'll question you all day. And Jacqueline," she smiled, "she's an artist. She’s going to love your feathers."

Al visibly preened.

* * *

They crossed two more meadows, each appearing to be late spring, before they caught the first signs of human habitation. Or rather, smelled.

Al wrinkled his nose in distaste and for once, Morgan got the same whiff in the air: A sharp, acrid scent of charred wood and bone that had been left too long in the fire. And sewer.

Before she had left, there had been some half-hearted attempts to dig out official latrine pits. But, surprise, surprise, no one really wanted the job.

It seemed like someone—or several someones—had started relieving themselves among the trees.

“Watch your step,” Morgan muttered. Despite the mess, she wanted to run on ahead, finally get her first look at the village—but Al would follow and scare the hell out of people. If Al was going to be accepted, she had to do this right. Deliberately, she slowed her pace to allow the boys to catch up.

Max was Colton’s best friend. It would be best if Al arrived in a group with him, along with a gift of venison for everyone else.

The next meadow took on more familiar features; Trees she had climbed for nuts, a pond the girls used to bathe. At last Morgan spotted a deep cut in the bark of an oak tree. Probably one of the first she had made on her journey.

She looked over her shoulder and met Max’s eye. He must have read her expression because he grinned, his white teeth brilliant against his dark skin. “Almost there!”

One more stand of trees, and these were definitely familiar. There was no fallen branches anywhere, and some of the lower limbs were cut short as if with hatchets. People had been harvesting greenwood for their fires.

At last, the stand of trees thinned and she came to the village.

It was a mess.

The field was littered with large metal cargo containers, scattered here and there as if randomly dropped from the sky. Some were empty, some spilled out contents of useless electronic tools, gardening equipment, lawnmowers, hedge trimmers, buckets of paint, and other objects that needed electricity or gasoline to run them. The grass all around had been stomped down to mud, which had then dried to a hard crust. She saw no evidence of what had been mountains of seasoned lumber. The scattered ash pits told her where it had probably gone.

Her excitement died and her lips compressed into a thin line. “It didn’t used to be like this.”

Al didn’t reply, except to point with his muzzle towards a group of people who were headed their way. They had been noticed.

“Morgan? Morgan, is that you?” That was Timberly’s voice.

Morgan turned in time to see her coming out from one of the nearby containers, which had a tarp stretched out over the front for a sunshade. Her friend ran toward her, but then, seeing Al, stopped short.

She wasn’t the only one. Others girls and boys followed behind her only to stop a safe distance away. Leah and Jacqueline were nowhere to been seen.

Morgan stared at them all, her throat tight, drinking the sight of them in and feeling weirdly homesick at the same time. It was as if she stood on one side of a canyon and all her friends stood on the other with a wide gulf between them. She had no way to reach them… She’d been gone too long.

Then, before she could figure out how to breach the gulf, Colton shouldered past the ring of staring people and strode up to her.

It struck her then how large of a man he was growing up to be. He’d always been an athletic boy, being one of the main jocks in high school. Now, with a jolt she realized he was almost as tall as Mud Bubble the Stone Seeker had been. He was also growing a patchy beard, which made him look older and more dangerous.

Colton glanced at Al, but didn’t break stride. Before she knew what was happening, he drew her into a tight hug.

“Glad to see you again,” he said into her ear. “We were starting to think you ran out on us.”

“I came back—I told you I would come back,” she babbled, too stiff and confused to return the embrace.

He grinned, drawing back. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

It was as if a dam had broken. Suddenly, she found herself surrounded by everyone else. Their faces were a blur except for Timberly who laughed and hugged her, too.

“I was starting to worry about you,” Timberly said. “You didn’t say you’d be gone this long!”

“I know, I ran into some problems.” Understatement of the century.

Timberly looked pointedly over Morgan’s shoulder at Al. “Is that one of the problems?”

“No, no.” She turned, realizing how rude she had been. Al had stepped back to give them all space. “Everyone, this is Alphon’zikk, son of Matron Chtahan’zikk. I call him Al. Al, this is… um, everyone.” She glanced at the group. “He can understand all of you, but I’ll need to translate for him until you learn to speak his language.”

Al started shifting from foot to foot, clacking his claws together. She couldn’t tell if it was nervousness or eagerness to meet everyone.

“What is he?” Colton asked.

“An alien. We’re not the only ones on this planet.”

Timberly raised her eyebrows. “That sounds like an interesting story.”

“It’s a long one,” Morgan said.

“I bet.” Straightening his shoulders, Colton strode up Al. “My name is Colton.” He grinned a little crookedly. “You come in peace, right?”

“Yes I do.” And, obviously using Morgan’s greeting as an example, Al dragged Colton into a hug, too. Claws, wings, and all.