Chapter 221: She Bought Some Peace and Quiet. Allegedly.

DOVE’S POV

Home had been Cleveland for so long that Dove had nearly given Thorne the answer without thinking. Instead, she had looked around their rented cabin and admitted she did not know anymore.

He had not tried to correct her. He had held her hand until she could talk about what she wanted next.

By morning, that had become a plan: go back to Base B, check the address his former workers had left, and stop treating every enjoyable thing as something they were only borrowing from disaster.

Edrik had returned late with news she had not expected. The supplier who kept offering gifts had followed her to the cabin, and Ash had killed him. Edrik had taken the man’s bag to the keeper; inside was a notebook naming women at several stops and the men traveling with them. There was no explanation of what he intended. The keeper was dealing with the body and warning those stops anyway.

Dove had sat very still. She had disliked the supplier. That was different from knowing he was dead behind a shed. She also refused to pretend Ash had earned a place in her bed by killing him.

"Did Ash see you inside?" she had asked.

"No," Edrik said. "Curtains were closed. I moved him away."

She had drawn Thorne closer and stayed where she wanted to be.

The heat outside made their morning plan ambitious. Dove stepped onto the porch after washing and immediately wanted to go back inside. The air smelled of hot wood and frying potatoes. Edrik stood beside the picnic table with breakfast and a damp cloth laid over the back of his neck.

"You look indecently awake," she told him.

"I saved you the shady side."

"Fine. You may continue being handsome."

Thorne pulled out her chair, and she sat with both feet on the cool patch beneath the table. They ate eggs, potatoes, leftover seasoned rabbit, and thick toast from the lodge kitchen. Dove finished her first mug of water before touching the coffee.

"We’re leaving before the road gets worse," Cal told them, joining the table. "If you buy that generator, the fuel rides outside the passenger cover."

She nodded. Wanting power did not mean wanting a warm gasoline bath.

Behind the shed, the mechanic ran the repaired machine with a lamp and an old fan attached. Dove watched long enough for the fan to become the most interesting object in the campground. It kept turning. The engine kept running. Edrik asked about the replacement line, and the mechanic showed him the work instead of making a speech about reliability.

Dove paid only after the longer test passed. The barter took most of the sound goods she had set aside from the previous day’s trades, but the machine was theirs.

"Ours," she repeated under her breath while Thorne helped lift it.

"Having second thoughts?" he asked.

"Absolutely not. I’m deciding which annoying thing gets plugged in first."

Edrik looked at her. "I don’t have a plug."

"A tragic design flaw."

Cal checked the weight, tied down the generator in the approved cargo space, and secured the fuel cans separately. Dove packed their blankets and new supplies, storing smaller owned goods by touch while she had privacy. She kept lunch and water where they could reach them without stopping.

There was still one purchase she wanted to make before they left.

"Show me the two books again," she told Sprout.

The development manuals appeared on her private display, each priced at two hundred forty normal coins. One built on Thorne’s existing control. The other worked with Edrik’s contact-based ability and the uncertain response he had begun getting from technology.

"Will either of these make them good at it today?"

"No. They describe exercises appropriate to their current abilities."

"I appreciate how you refuse to make that sound exciting."

"Would you prefer misleading enthusiasm?"

"From you? I’d barely notice."

She read the limits, asked both men whether they wanted them, and bought the books after they said yes. Four hundred eighty coins left her current balance. She did not need to stare at the remaining number to know it was a worthwhile use of what she had earned.

Thorne took his book carefully. Edrik opened his before the truck finished loading.

"If you start reading while I’m talking, I will take it back," Dove warned.

He looked up immediately. "I would never."

His thumb kept his place. She laughed and kissed his cheek because she understood that particular kind of lie.

While Thorne walked behind the shed to collect a bag, Dove felt something faint beneath her ribs. It was not pain or a voice. It reminded her of knowing someone was in the next room before hearing them move.

She turned toward the shed, then stopped herself.

"Sprout?"

The system identified the feeling as part of their bond. An awareness that he was alive, clearer now because she had finally noticed it without a dozen other things demanding her attention.

"Can it tell me where he is?"

"No."

"Whether he’s hurt?"

"Not from that sensation. Do not mistake awareness for a health report."

She pressed a hand against her shirt. It felt small and warm and terribly important. When Thorne came back, she took his hand without explaining in front of everyone. Later, she would tell him what she had noticed.

For now, she liked seeing his smile when he realized she had reached first.

Before loading the previous afternoon, the keeper had set a portable radio aside for Dove to test. Now he brought it out from beneath his counter. Its back cover was intact, the battery compartment clean, and the test broadcast came through clearly enough to hear the weather warning. Dove traded for it and packed the batteries separately until they were aboard.

"Ours," Dove told Edrik, handing him the radio. "Try not to look more excited about it than you are about me."

"Put it down and I’ll show you the difference."

They left the campground before noon. Dove looked back once at the cabins, the empty store shelves, and the stretch of porch where she had eaten a good breakfast. She was glad they had stopped. She was glad they were leaving with more than another story about almost dying.

High beyond the trees, a broad shadow turned across the road.

"He really has nothing better to do," she muttered.

Thorne glanced up. "Not apparently."

Edrik switched on their radio. He held its casing, trying an exercise from the book while the truck rattled beneath them. The static thinned for a few breaths, then returned.

He tried again. This time a man’s voice came through, strained and close.

"Northern pump depot is not loading. Repeat, do not send collection trucks until we confirm repairs."

Dove lowered her mug. The road ahead shimmered with heat, and the bottle beside her was already warm.

"Cal," she called over the engine. "Stop at the next shelter. We need to find out how much water that truck was supposed to bring."