Chapter 37: These Boots Were Made for Bad Decisions

Dove slept badly and refused to call it intuition. People had been handing one another suspicious pieces of paper since long before she arrived. A poor night’s sleep did not make her an expert in whichever one currently involved her.

Day Fifteen began with eight normal coins and twenty-three Favor. Sprout issued four waxed-paper sleeves, with twelve normal coins for selling three. Six fresh Favor Coins unlocked a lined coat priced at sixty normal coins.

"Sixty? Does it also run the shop while I sleep?" Dove asked. Sprout said it provided insulation, and she informed it that she had expected either a better answer or an employee discount.

She accepted the tasks and washed behind the tarp with pool water in her basin. The process remained ordinary enough to involve elbows, damp towels, and the ongoing problem of a tail that wanted to occupy the entire floor. Her skin felt less rough afterward, and she lasted longer before needing her gloves near the draft. She still wore the scarf and layered clothes when she left.

The scent would be stronger after a full wash. Sprout reminded her before she opened, which she appreciated despite wanting to shove its marketing department into the basin. She rinsed her neck with ordinary water and recorded that choice beside the time.

Thorne met her with empty hands, having asked yesterday whether she wanted company for the trade. She carried her six remaining owned cloths and the four consignment sleeves openly in her bowl. The rest stayed stored, and the stall gate remained latched behind them.

At the service bay, the boot trader checked the cloths, counted six, and let Dove sit on a crate to try both boots. She put on the winter socks she had purchased, fitted her new insoles inside the boots, and checked that her toes had room before walking along the marked strip.

The soles gripped. The lining held warmth. Nothing flopped off her heel when she turned. She looked down at her feet with an affection that should probably have embarrassed her.

"I would leave both of you for these boots," she told Thorne and the trader. "I need that understood before anybody gets attached."

Thorne laughed, earning four Favor Coins and bringing that purse to twenty-seven. The older cloths paid for her boots but did not count toward today’s sleeve target. A driver then bought three sleeves for his damp route papers, trading a small tin of cooked ham. That earned twelve normal coins, bringing that purse to twenty. She still needed two Favor Coins for the coat unlock.

She wrapped the borrowed clinic footwear to return later, keeping her own new socks and insoles on. The boots were hers, including the repaired seam she had checked twice. It felt like owning a slightly larger piece of the ground beneath her.

Hale came over while she was recording the trade. His eyes lingered on her brushed tail and then on her face, and he stopped close enough that she caught him drawing a slow breath.

"You smell different," he said.

"Everybody keeps announcing that like I should release a press statement. Ask about the thread."

He laughed in surprise, yielding the two coins she needed. Her Favor purse reached twenty-nine, completing the target and unlocking the coat. Dove closed the panel before his attention could become more important than the page in his pocket.

"Rusk gave you something yesterday," she said. "Did it concern my goods?"

Hale’s expression settled. "He said people here had questions about where they come from. He offered to help clear them up if you used Terminal’s trading route."

"How generous. What did he want for his helpfulness?"

"A share of the goods moved through him."

Dove looked toward the inspection table, where Rusk was counting empty crates beside his assigned second worker. He had not offered her a route. He had offered someone else control of the problem he might have helped create.

"Can I read what he gave you?" she asked.

Hale hesitated before handing over the folded page. It listed soap, cloth, thread, and a warning that the Warren had not confirmed the safety of her supplies. At the bottom, Rusk proposed that Terminal handle future trades through him until the concern was settled.

Dove read it carefully, then asked Hale to bring it to Varek with her. She did not take the paper without permission or announce that it proved who had left the label. It showed a reason somebody might benefit from the rumor. That was enough to ask a better question.

Thorne stayed beside her while they crossed the bay. His hand hovered briefly near her back when a carrier passed, then returned to his side after she moved clear herself. She noticed, and liked that he had let her do it.

Varek read the proposal and asked Hale when it had been offered. The trader gave the time, then admitted Rusk had spoken about Dove’s goods before the crew arrived, through a routine supply message sent from the outer watch desk.

"Keep both records," Dove said. "Please."

Hale looked more uncomfortable now, perhaps because the harmless opportunity he had imagined was acquiring dates and witnesses. Varek sent for the earlier message without promising what it would prove.

Back in the common hall, Thorne asked whether she wanted him at the stall while she returned the borrowed footwear to Kael. Dove almost said she could handle it alone. Then she remembered that wanting to do something herself did not require arranging every small job like a test of moral strength.

"Yes," she said. "Sit outside the gate. I’ll be ten minutes."

He agreed, and she handed him the empty bowl to hold until she returned. It was a tiny thing to entrust him with. It still felt like choosing.

At the clinic doorway, Kael looked down at her new boots and smiled before checking the returned pair. "They fit?"

"Beautifully. My feet have entered a committed relationship."

Behind him, Ash stood with the recovered supply message in his hand. He looked at her, then toward Thorne at the stall, and folded the paper along its existing crease.

"Rusk says the warning came from something you told him," he said. "I want your exact words."