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The Lucky Ones Left - Chapter 3

CW: Strong language

I come to in a hard, uncomfortable bed with the smell of cooking eggs wafting from downstairs. I look to my side, briefly expecting to see Sara, but I'm only greeted with the drab gray mattress cover. My paw is throbbing and my tail aches something awful, but there's a glass of water sitting on the small table next to the bed. There's a jagged gash down the back of my injured paw, with white and red thread jutting every which way. Clearly, Aitana isn't very experienced with this, but it seems to work well enough. I'm just glad I can move my paw again as I reach for the water. My mind quickly drifts back to the eggs, mostly because I hadn't eaten in a week, but also... what the fuck? Where did they get eggs? I push the thought aside briefly while I desperately down the water.

It's probably the morning if they're making eggs, I assume I just passed out and slept through the night. Then again that might be all they have to eat. But where did they get them? I haven't seen a bird in... well since about a year after everything went to shit.

I decide to go investigate, and find that the door won't budge. There are no windows. I'm trapped. I hope it's just because they don't trust me as I call out with the ragged remains of my voice:

"Aitana! Eric!"

I wait, but there's no response.

"Can someone let me out?!" I'm starting to panic. It's a small house, and I know they can hear me.

But I hear the stairs creak as light footsteps trot up and towards the door, then a lock clicks open, and something scrapes against it.

It opens to reveal Eric standing in the doorway, with Aitana holding a plank of wood behind him. At first, I think she intends to use it as a weapon, but that fear quickly subsides as she leans it against the wall to the side of the door.

"We were worried about you, glad you woke up so soon," says Eric. "Come on, we're making breakfast."

I don't really believe him, as generally when you're worried about someone it doesn't make much sense to throw together a means of locking them in a room, but I suppose nothing much makes sense anymore.

"So, who are you with?" Aitana tries to seem as if she's just making small talk as we head down the stairs, but her tone tips me off to the fact that there's deeper intent behind the question.

I raise my paw and loosely grasp at the necklace under my jacket containing Sara's ashes.

"It's... just me. Has been for a while."

"I'm sorry." The ocelot offers solemnly, but it's hard to believe her condolences are genuine when she immediately launches back into her questions.

"So how have you been surviving, if it's just you? Where have you been living?"

It's hard to read anything but distrust into her behavior. On the one hand I can understand her skepticism, but on the other... I'm clearly not in a good state. I can't see how she'd rationally believe this was some sort of ploy, but then again I also had no idea if she was thinking rationally at all.

Eric clearly senses that I'm upset by the continued questions as he cuts in.

"Aitana, give him a moment," the marten insists through a voice which is, while characteristically monotone, accompanied by an expression clearly laced with cautious empathy. I'm still not sure what to think of him. He seems so... detached, when he speaks, but his behavior consistently suggests otherwise. Regardless, I get the feeling he intends to keep his distance.

As if in response to my thoughts, his mood suddenly shifts and he bounds excitedly off the bottom of the stairs towards the kitchen.

"Fox! We have eggs!" Even from Eric the teasing is unmistakable, but, well, shit. I fucking love eggs.

"Eric, don't be specist!" Aitana scolds.

"No, I like eggs!" I protest. It seems unfair to me that the sudden display of warmth from the distant marten should be shot down so swiftly, even if it was misguided.

"Uhhh, sorry, Aytchu. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Eetu. And no offense taken," I reassure him.

"How do you like them cooked?" The marten inquires.

"Oh, I, uh, over-easy, please."

"Are you OK? You sound nervous," the ocelot interjects. She's come out from what I thought was the bathroom with... potatoes?!

My maw is agape and she stops and looks at me inquisitively.

"Eetu, are you sure you're alright?"

"I... where are you getting all of this?" I inquire incredulously. I hadn't seen this much fresh food in... I don't even know how long.

She hesitates briefly and I notice her pupils widen and her fur start to stand up briefly before she regains her composure.

"We have a storeroom where we can keep food cool. We found a large indoor farm at a settlement nearby, and we steal from it where we can. There's also a storehouse we can get into."

"A settlement? With a farm! Why don't you live there?" I press further.

"Perhaps you should regard your hosts with a little more grace, Eetu," she spits back with an implicit warning present in her tone.

"I'm just... alright, I'm sorry."

Prying too much might mean I overstay my welcome. For now I'll just have to follow along and bite my tongue.