“That was so unnecessary,” Gabriella grumbled as she frantically tried to collect her things into her bin.

“At least they didn’t take anything,” Lucas sighed as he hugged his soccer ball tight. He had not been able to cram it under the floorboard.

“Everyone did a great job,” Mitchel announced, truly proud no one had gotten hurt or scared straight.

“I’m hungry,” Laura sniffed back tears, grabbing his pant leg tightly.

“I’ll cook!” Lucas announced, ditching his soccer ball and racing into the kitchen.

“You won’t get burned?” Christine piped up.

“No!”

“You’re going to use too much of our food,” Gabriella said with a scoff, “I’ll make dinner.”

“But I have the best taste in this house! All of you lack culinary depth,” Lucas insisted, bringing a giggle out of Christine.

“As long as Mitch isn’t cooking, I’ll be happy,” Annie announced as she crashed into a chair at their dining table.

“Uncalled for,” Mitchel shot back, joining her as the kitchen grew occupied. “Christine, your hair?”

Christine blinked in confusion and ran a hand through the rest of her hair that had not been braided.

“After diner,” Christine decided.

Mitchel nodded.

The kids were flung into a conversation of their own, recalling how odd the Rwequek looked with the burns and what they all thought of the situation. Mitchel would have liked to talk through it with them, make sure they were truly not frightened, but now was an opportunity to talk to Annie with limited interruption. He would not waste it.

They were quiet for a moment. Annie stared at her interlaced hands which were spread open and revealed her palms. Countless small scars wrapped around her fingers and tree branched up to her wrists from working in the mines, on the house, in the garden. Annie had said very little about her life before the invasion, but Mitchel knew that she had procured some of the larger scars before they met.

He looked to her bicep, which was still covered by her sweatshirt, and wondered if that bastard guard had added to her collection of white lines.

“Is your arm ok?” Mitchel finally asked.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately. It was a warning for him to back off but not entirely dismissive.

“Are you ok?” he tried.

Her green eyes seemed to swim, like light breaking through a ceiling of newly sprung leaves. She was deep in thought, fighting with the idea and trying to tame it under her control. Still, her cheeks hallowed as she sucked a tight breath in.

“I will be.” She nodded, not giving Mitchel a moment to analyze the answer before asking, “You’re alright? With the lockdown and all?”

And all. Those words were Annie’s way of encompassing all that had happened in the past few days, from losing Winston to the fight that occurred this afternoon. And to some people, this would seem insensitive, making light of a situation so heavy.

But Mitchel knew how hard Annie was trying by just sitting at the table, how badly she wanted to spring out of her seat and do something with her hands. Whether it was a hole in the wall or weeds infecting her garden or a Rwequek guard disrespecting her family, she had always taken a physical approach to all her problems. Her hands were as important to her conversations as language was to Mitchel.

As he watched her try not to wring her fingers, he let the last of his annoyance and anger fade away.

“I’m ok too,” he smiled lightly to her, “But next time, just give me a heads up before you storm the guard.”

Tension seemed to drain away as her shoulders relaxed and she lay her palms flat on the table. The corner of her mouth jumped, a flicker of smile, before she leaned back into her chair and decompressed.

“Where did you go?” Mitchel asked.

“The Human Medical Facility.”

Mitchel bristled. That explained why she had not come back home immediately after the siren began. She had been a 15-minute walk away. Mitchel briefly wondered if she had run.

“And?” he asked, hoping for a good response.

Is Winnie worse than when we left him?

“They didn’t let me in.”

“Oh,” Mitchel frowned. “Did they give you a reason why?”

Annie chuckled and raised her eyebrow questioningly.

“They yelled at me and pushed me out the door. What do you think, Mitch? I couldn’t understand what they were saying.”

Mitchel thumbed the table as he chuckled.

“Right. Forgot,” he said, a frown settling. “I’m worried. Every guard today didn’t see the Facility’s notification. You know, that Winston is out of commission.”

“The guard maybe did something?” Annie questioned. “The one who…”

“The one you fought?” Mitchel pointed out.

Annie simply nodded, not denying anything.

“He definitely didn’t forget you,” Annie said with slight eyebrow raise.

“No, he didn’t,” Mitchel agreed. “And he seems pretty hell bent on payback for making an embarrassment out of him.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Annie said firmly.

Mitchel smiled softly.

“If we can’t see Winston for the next few days, and we’re missing a good amount of our rations…” Mitchel bit his lip. “And on top of that, the guards have a target on my back…”

Annie waited for him to speak.

“I think I’m going to say yes, to the offer.”

“The interpretation job?”

Mitchel nodded.

Annie’s eyebrows tightened in thought.

“I don’t know,” Annie said, “In any other circumstance I would tell you to stay clear of them but…”

“This week is going to be stretched so thin,” Mitchel shook his head.

“I saw the rations,” Annie agreed.

“And if Winston comes back later this week, I don’t expect him to be able to hit 6 units every day. He’s going to have to recover.”

“It won’t have to be for forever,” Annie said, nodding to herself. “It’s a temporary job.”

Mitchel let that convince him further, and in a rush of energy, he ripped his eyepiece out of his pocket and reread the message.

Compensation of 10 units of Oblinium per day.

They needed this.

Winston would do anything he could to keep the family afloat, Mitchel told himself.

You need to do this.

“Thank you, Mitch,” Annie said. “I’ve got your back if you need me.”

Mitchel gave a little smile, wobbly with his confused emotions.

“Of course,” he said, his voice soft.

Before he could lose his confidence, he clicked a simple “Accept” button and watched the message disappear. Mitchel and Annie waited in bated breath, but no reply came. They would have to wait.

***

Over the noise and movement of their dinner, Mitchel could not stop checking the little device in his pocket. Even afterwards, while he was in bed and finishing up Christine’s final braids, his mind was solely preoccupied on the message.

Laura was curled up at his side, as the darkness of the bedroom had caused the fears of the lockdown to resurface. He held her lightly in his left arm, his right draped over his chest. In his hand, he clutched the eyepiece tightly.

Only as his eyes were closing, accepting that waiting up all night was only going to make him tired, did he hear a small ping and his eyepiece’s screen flashed white.

Mitchel moved the eyepiece so suddenly that Laura whined in her sleep beside him. He murmured an apology and looked at the screen with wide eyes. From the rustling to his far right, he knew Annie was up as well.

“What does it say?” Annie asked from her spot on the ground.

“Your job will begin in three days. 37th Generation of the Mercos,” Mitchel quietly translated.

“That’s it then,” Annie breathed. “Into the lion’s den.”

Mitchel could not find it within him to reply. He closed his eyepiece, shutting off the only source of light, and stared up at the black ceiling. He tried to ignore the new information, and instead tried to think of Winston at the Facility, to mentally ration out the rest of their food, to count all the units it would take to be free of debt. It would be much longer until he was able to fall asleep.

However, as the tender hands of unconsciousness brushed up against Mitchel’s temple, he could not help but think of Cherzil’s final warning.

The lion’s den.

In we go.