"Of course it is," said Whalen. "I told you I went hunting while you were still in the coma."
"It is..." she searched her mind for the right word. "It is bad."
"It's what there is," he answered. "No fruit grows in the winter."
Mary made a face. "If we hibernate we don't need to eat flesh."
"Humans don't hibernate."
"Terrians do." But she was Outcast. Reaching into the bowl, she drew out the next morsel. While she couldn't avoid wrinkling her nose, she managed to chew and swallow the meat. It felt dry in her throat, not like the delicious moisture of spring fruits. She choked a little bit.
He handed her a cup of water. "Here, drink. It will make it easier."
She did, and raised her eyes to meet his. "You are kind."
He dropped her gaze and stood up, walking away from the circle of firelight. "No. No, I'm not."
She forced down another bite of meat and sat up, listening to his footsteps. "Is sharing not kind?"
He didn't answer right away, and she would have stood up to follow him except that she heard the pause in his footsteps. There was a soft sigh, as if in exertion, and he walked back into the light, toward the fire. A couple of branches were in his hands, and she realized he meant to build the fire back up from where it had waned while they ate.
Mary did get to her feet then, although her legs were still shaky. She approached him as he knelt down, reaching for the fire. "Show me."
"I'm sorry?"
She gestured at the fire. She'd made them before, but only with Lightning, and she had no more Lightning. "How to use trees to make fire."
She opened her eyes to see that it was white, warm and welcoming around her. Mary rejoiced, and thought she might feel more tears on her face but it remained dry. She closed her eyes and listened. Yes, she was right. She was Dreaming again.
She turned around and around on the Dreamplane she thought she'd never see again. There was nothing except Earth and Sky, but that was enough. She was home. She was home!
Turning around again, she stumbled against something and lost her footing. If it hadn't caught her, she would have fallen. Twisting, she looked up and saw Whalen's face. "Do you...Dream?"
He frowned. "Outcast. You are Outcast."
She trilled her distress, and saw the blue mask form over his head. The face of a Person appeared next to him. "Outcast."
Getting her footing and turning around again, Mary saw the People gathered all around her. "Outcast. Outcast. Outcast."
"Please!" she cried.
"Outcast. Outcast. Outcast. Outcast." The voices surrounded her, overlapping, creating a rush of sound that buffeted and began to overwhelm her. Something wrapped around her middle again, restraining her. Outcast. Outcast. Outcastoutcastoutcastoutcastoutcast....
Gasping, Mary awoke from the Dream to discover that something really was wrapped around her middle: Whalen's arms. He held her against him. Touching. They were touching, and she trembled slightly where her back met his chest.
The tremble was his voice. "What happened? Are you okay? What did you see?"
Trilling softly, she gathered herself and stood up, moving toward the shelter door. The sky was streaked with the beginnings of dawn, but the night-cold was still there. "I Dreamed."
"Yes. You did."
She looked out at the World, then back at him. "Do you Dream?"
"Never by choice."
"Why would you not want Dreaming?"
Sitting up, Whalen shook his head. "I hear voices and they drive at me, the way hers did for so long." His hand slid along the floor toward the mask, but he didn't put it on. "There's no protection."
"Metal will not protect you from the Dream. Or the People."
"Do I need their protection, with you here?"
She turned to look out the door again. "I am Outcast."
He came up and put his hand on her shoulder. "I suppose I am too."
His hand was warm, real, comforting. She liked the way it felt when he touched her.
She was building up the fire later that morning when he walked out of the shelter, carrying his laser bow. Mary frowned. "That is a weapon."
Whalen pushed the mask over his head. "So is Lightning."
"Lightning is only for protection, for safety. You are planning to kill."
"I am going hunting." There was a tone in his voice that she couldn't identify without seeing his face. "We need more food already."
"There are mosses. Underneath the snow. They can be food."
"They don't give you as much strength as meat. We need all we can get in the wintertime."
"It does not require killing. The Earth is kinder, and gives of herself."
He came up to her, facing her down with the mask, waving the laser bow around. "I need to hunt! To get away from the voices!"
Frightened, she dropped into a crouch, trilling her distress.
"Stop that!" With a choked cry, he ran out into the snow.
Still trilling softly, Mary eased from her crouch into a sitting position on the ground. Was this why he was Outcast? Because he hunted, he killed? She had thought he was simply being kind to bring food to her, but was it really because he wanted the excuse to hunt?
Mary dropped one hand and laid it flat on the bare Earth beneath her. She did not want to be a reason for killing. It was wrong.
He returned to the camp before dark, dragging the carcass of a grazer into the clearing before the hut. Mary went to the door and watched as he hung it by its hind legs and then began to skin it. Blood streamed out. Gagging, she retreated back inside.
He came in some time later, going to a bucket in the corner to wash his hands. Thankfully, he carried no meat. Drying his skin with a length of cloth, he stood up and gazed down at her. "You need to eat."
"I..." she trailed off, fighting the urge to gag at the memory of seeing him skin the grazer. "I am not hungry."
"It's winter. You have to keep your strength up."
She shook her head and turned away. Making a scoffing noise, he left the hut. She could smell the fire outside, and could hear the meat sizzling as she cooked it. Mary closed her eyes and tried to ignore the pain in her middle.