“Simon, stay!” Meg snapped.
The whine sounded more like an annoyed protest, but it was still a whine.
“He needs to rest, so I won’t come in,” Steve said. “What happened at the stall market is all over the local news. I came by to let you know that the Intuits and Others on Great Island will give you any help you need. And to bring you this.” He set a large basket just inside the door. “Wolf cookies for them, including freshly baked chamomile, and a couple of sandwiches and bakery treats for you.”
“Thank you.”
He looked at her knee. “You okay?”
She looked at her heavily bandaged knee, which was wrapped that way to prevent the Wolves from licking the wound. “It’s not a serious wound. I was trying to locate the source of the pins-and-needles feeling and fell on the stairs.”
“And spoke prophecy.”
“Yes.” Meg shuddered. She couldn’t recall the images she’d seen, which was for the best right now, but she still felt residual terror because of what she’d seen.
She jolted when Simon and Nathan howled. So did Steve.
“Are they hurt?” he asked. “I mean, freshly hurt?”
“No, that’s the ‘We want the cookies’ howl,” Meg replied.
“Gotcha.” Steve took a step back. “You take care, Meg. And call us if you need anything.”
“I will.” She hesitated, but he was here. “The girls who were rescued from the compound. How are they doing?”
“Better now that we’ve lessened the visual stimuli in their rooms. The girls have a very fine line between enough and too much stimulation or information. The woman we hired to help them has a good feel for where that line is. The more successful outings the girls experience, the easier it is for them to let someone know when they’ve had too much. Hopefully they’ll learn other ways besides cutting to cope when they’re feeling overwhelmed.”
“They’re cassandra sangue,” Meg said. “Eventually, they’re going to cut.”
“But not as soon, and even once they start, maybe not as often.”
She thought of the information Jackson Wolfgard had sent about cs821. “Wait. Another cassandra sangue who is living with the Wolfgard in the Northwest is revealing visions through drawings.” She rubbed her left arm, trying to quiet the prickling. “Maybe that is something other girls could do to delay cutting.”
“Other girls,” Steve said softly. “But not you.”
“No, not me.” The prickling faded with the words, confirmation of a truth.
Steve took another step back. “Thanks for the suggestion. Get some rest, Meg.”
She closed the door, hefted the basket, and limped to the kitchen, ignoring the soft, whiny howls coming from the living room.
Were injured Wolves usually this whiny, or were they trying to play the sympathy card to get more attention . . . and more cookies? She’d ask Jane when the bodywalker dropped by this evening to check on the patients.
After putting away the food that needed refrigeration, she limped back to the living room with a tray that held a sandwich, two small plates with various flavors of cookies, and a pitcher of water for all of them. She filled Simon’s and Nathan’s water bowls halfway, then poured the rest of the water into her glass.
She didn’t want to watch television while they ate. And the radio kept talking about the attack at the stall market, so she couldn’t listen to that either, especially after hearing the one report. . . .