Hunter pulled his truck up alongside the house, hopping out and slamming the door closed with enthusiasm. Willow spotted the buck draped in the bed and felt a wave of relief wash through her body. She leaned against the doorframe. Her husband smiled at her, the broad easygoing smile that had won her heart all those years ago.

"Will! Look what daddy brought home!" he whooped, slapping the side of his truck. His excitement was infectious and despite herself, she felt her feet move forward one step at a time, across the porch and down the stairs, until he was drawing her up into his arms and his mouth sealing hers with a rough, enthusiastic kiss. He smelled like pine and gunpowder. His kiss tasted of coffee. Fingers tangled into her hair and Hunter cupped her face with his other hand.

"Wow," she gasped, when he pulled back. "That looks like a big one."

"Well, not the biggest I've caught, but it'll keep us fed for a bit." He grinned down at her, and his expression was so sincere, his green eyes so bright, it made her heart ache. She swallowed, searching his gaze.

Who am I? And where are you? What do I do to get you back?

"What's wrong Will?" he asked, blinking down at her, stroking her cheek with his finger. It brushed over the bruise, and she winced. He glanced at the spot he'd touched, then met her eyes again. "Still tender, huh?"

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Well, you know, I don't like it when we fight like that," he said, and his voice touched on remorse, but couldn't quite reach it. His eyes were clearer now. Clear of their former enthusiasm and clear of their former feelings. They'd gone dead like they often did. "Like last night, you know."

"I know," she said. Because she knew better than to not know. She managed a smile for him, practiced, but she could feel how it didn't quite reach her eyes. And he could see it too. He studied her face, and for a brief second, she thought she saw sadness there. Saw something that spoke of the humanity she remembered him having. Had he ever really had it though? Or had she imagined it even when they were younger?

"Well, how about I make you a cup of coffee, mama?" he asked, brushing his thumb over her lower lip. "I bet you and the kids have been busy all morning. Why don't you go inside, sit at the table, and leave it to me for a bit, hm?"

She knew this song and dance. She'd danced it so many times with him her feet bled and her limbs screamed for reprieve. But she felt herself flow into it once more. She nodded her head and gave him the pretty smile he liked so much. She leaned up and kissed his bottom lip the way she knew pleased him most. This was how he apologized, and this was how she forgave, until the next time.

She followed him inside, leaving the front door open to help air out the house, and she let him sit her down at the kitchen table. He went about making her a cup of coffee, chatting excitedly about the hunt as he did. She nodded and made noises to let him know she was listening. She stared outside the kitchen screen door, enjoying the way the breeze swept through the house now that the front door was open too. The smell of coffee greeted her soon with its caramel and chocolate notes. She tilted her head, spotting movement off in the treeline. She paused, squinting.

Usually wild animals kept away from the farm, but she knew there'd been something sniffing around lately. They'd lost a chicken a few nights ago, and the night before last they'd lost a calf, which had prompted the fight between her and Hunter. He'd accused her of not locking it up for the night, and she'd…she wasn't quite sure what she'd done. Tried to defend herself, maybe. Realistically, it was Alder's job to check the animals once more at night before he went to bed. Hunter thought it was good for the boy, taught him responsibility, but she would've never dared to bring any attention to Alder like that. She'd told Hunter she'd given Alder the night off because he'd been so tired from chopping wood and was maybe coming down with a cold. That left the responsibility to fall on her though. And nothing she said could ease Hunter's ire. It was her fault it hadn't been locked up and her fault it was gone now to feed some damn wild animal. It was her fault they were out whatever it could've produced for the family. She was selfish and spoiled anddamn it don't you walk away from me—

She jumped when a cup of coffee was set down in front of her. She looked up, meeting her husband's curious gaze.

"What're you thinking, Will?" he asked.

"Oh," she whispered. "I…I was thinking about what to make from the deer. I was thinking that stew you like so much, maybe."

He smiled and leaned forward, his lips settling on her brow and hand coming up to rub her shoulder. "I'd like that," he said. "I love your cooking."

The screen door creaked open, and Ivy and Alder entered the house. There were other song and dances she expected. Ivy squealing with excitement to see her daddy and Alder's barrage of questions about the hunt and when he would get to go. It was a lovely song and dance. One not yet tainted or torn. But this time, it didn't start.

The quiet that followed their entrance struck both Willow and Hunter. Ivy faltered and Alder stood in the doorway, holding half a pail of fresh milk. The children stared at them, Hunter leaning over Willow and the kitchen table, his hand on her shoulder and his figure towering compared to hers.

The silence stretched out. The air felt cold. Willow felt a knot form in her stomach, a sense of foreboding crept over her. Finally, the floors creaking beneath Hunter adjusting into a stand broke the spell and he smiled at the children.

"Well, what're y'all staring at?" he asked, his hands coming to rest at his hips. "Aren't y'all glad to see me?"

"Hey, daddy," Ivy chirped, her voice and cadence familiar. Willow breathed a small sigh of relief, sure the spell was indeed over as Ivy skipped into the kitchen. The side huge she gave him rang with oddness and Hunter's brow knit. He swept her further into his arms, drawing her against his chest and kissing her brow then her cheek.

"Hey, princess!" he said, blowing a raspberry on her cheek suddenly, and Ivy squealed with delight and flailed at him, normalcy easing back into her little limbs. "What've you got there, Alder?"

"Milk, sir," Alder said, tone flat.

"Mama said we could make chocolate milk!" Ivy offered, leaning more easily into the hug with her father.

"Well, that sure sounds yummy," he said. "Better be careful though, too many sweets and you'll start to fatten up!" He gave her belly a poke and Ivy laughed, but there was a strain to it. Her arms wrapped protectively around her middle.

"I don't think a glass of chocolate milk will hurt," Willow said, managing a smile. She stood up, walking to the counter to start gathering supplies for breakfast.

"Well, I'm just saying," Hunter chuckled. She felt his gaze on her. "She's still a growing girl. We don't want her getting any bad habits. Figure's one of the most important things a woman has to offer." She felt him come up behind her and his hand stroked her backside, grabbing her buttock. She shifted, tried to give him a look. She hated when he did that in front of the children.

"That's not true," Alder cut in, frowning at his father now. "Ivy's really good with animals."

"I taught Oliver how to sit and stay."

"Oliver?" Hunter asked, looking confused.

"The young goat," Willow frowned, trying to keep her tone neutral. "She occupies her time playing with him when I'm gathering eggs." God, don't let him feel annoyed by the name. It always irked him when Ivy named the animals. God, if he could just overlook it—

"You know he's not a pet," Hunter chided, frowning at Ivy now.

Ivy looked distressed, shaking her head. "I-I know! I just call him that sometimes. It's dumb. I just call him Oliver, and he listens, but it's just because—"

"And mama's super smart," Alder interrupted, his free hand tightening into a small fist at his side. "And brave. And patient."

"I know she is, Alder," Hunter said, offering the boy a patronizing smile. "That's why I married her, you know. Smartest, bravest, most patient girl I ever met. She has to be to be married to me you know." He laughed, but it was the empty kind. A sound with clear, dead eyes.

"I'm serious!" Alder snapped, and it stilled the kitchen.

Willow's hands froze midway through scooping flour into a bowl. She bit down on her lower lip, waiting as the quiet stretched out in the kitchen. She only had so much time to work with. A few seconds at most. Hunter shifted his weight forward, toward the boy, and she turned around to face the children before he could take a full step. She lifted her chin and forced a glimmer of authority in her voice.

"Now that's enough," she said. "I need the both of you to wash up for breakfast. Your daddy's had a long morning hunting forusand we don't need to be bothering him! Alder, you say your sorry for raising your voice now."

Alder stared at her with his face screwed up in a scowl. Betrayal screamed in his eyes. He'd been standing up forherand she was going to defend Hunter? She pleaded with him, tried to, with her eyes in return. Hunter took a step forward and for a moment she feared she'd lost it all. But quickly Alder's gaze snapped to his father.

"Sorry, daddy," he said. He sounded softer, sincere even.

Hunter paused, taking a slow breath in. "There's a good boy," he said. "Listen to your mother and go wash up now. You too, Ivy. I don't want to hear anymore about this business with naming the animals. They're food, not pets."

"Yes, daddy," Ivy said, her tone softer as well, chastened. Alder took Ivy's hand in his, setting down the pail of milk by the fridge, and strode past the two adults with his head down, gaze averted to the floor.

Willow released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her hands were shaking. She stuffed them into the pockets of her apron. She turned her attention up to Hunter, afraid of what she might see. His expression was cloudy. Willow could sense the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. Hunter lingered on her for a moment, his eyes searching hers as if trying to unravel the thoughts that hid behind them. She bit her cheek where it already felt raw and tender from this morning. She wondered a moment if he was looking for her the way sometimes she looked for him. Had they both lost each other?

Finally, Hunter let out a heavy sigh and a forced smile played on his lips. "Well, I suppose breakfast won't cook itself," he said, voice strained.

Willow nodded silently, relieved that the storm seemed to have passed for now. She turned back to the counter, resuming her task of preparing breakfast, though her hands still trembled. The children had retreated to the washroom, their footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet house. She could hear the soft rise and fall of conversation between the two of them. What were they talking about? Their father? Or her? Her heart ached at the thought, the memory of Alder's betrayed look flashing in her mind. God, what if he started to hate her?

Willow felt Hunter's presence behind her. She tensed but kept her focus on the task at hand, mixing baking powder and salt into the flour. Hunter's touch on her shoulder was light, almost hesitant, requesting.

"Will, I'm sorry about earlier," he murmured. He drew closer, the soft touch on her shoulder tracing down her back, and his arms carefully wrapped around her, mindful of her midsection. She kept her head down, closing her eyes.

"Just leave the goat alone," she whispered.

He was quiet a moment, then his lips brushed the nape of her neck, tender. The tiny hairs on her neck and arms flew into the air, a knot tightened her lower belly, and she felt a mixture of fear and excitement. She waited for what would come next. His thumb stroked a soft circle around her stomach, easing up beneath her blouse and brushing the tender skin.

"Alright," he whispered. "For now."

"Thank you," she whispered. "Go sit. I'll make breakfast."

The tense morning eased its way into a quiet breakfast. The children were subdued and Hunter seemed anxious and strained. He tried to engage the children, attempted to share stories of the hunt with Alder, who offered the same polite interest he often gave to Ivy when she told him of the relational drama between her dollies. Willow watched the pantomime of family life and the flashes of desperation and irritation on Hunter's face. She reached out at one point and set her hand gently on his thigh, but the glimmer of frustration he cast her made her pull it away.

Why couldn't she fix things?

She stood later at the sink, washing dishes and gazing out at the forest behind the farmhouse. She played breakfast over and over in her head, wondering what she could have done differently to help the morning along. The sun was higher up in the sky now, brightening the previous dull coolness of the morning. Behind her, at the table, Hunter was cleaning his rifle, and the children did homeschool work. Alder had expressed an interest in attending the local public school, but Hunter would hear nothing of it.

God only knows what they'll teach him there. The schools have gone to shit lately.

She took a breath and let it out, lost in the quiet ticking the of the clock and the sound of the children's pencils scratching in their workbooks. Hunter kept meaning to get internet so they could at least do online lessons, but he was growing increasingly reticent. After all, wasn't it nice being disconnected, he'd ask her. Wasn't that why they'd chosen a homestead? The smell of gun oil was a familiar and not unpleasant scent and behind her she could hear Hunter cleaning the barrel.

"Daddy," Ivy said, "Look, I got this one."

"Oh!" Hunter hummed, his voice shifted to pleasant surprise. Willow glanced behind her. Hunter surveyed Ivy's arithmetic and gave a low whistle. "Wow, fifteen minus three, huh?"

"It's twelve," Ivy remarked, offering him a pleased smile.

"Well, now when did you get so smart?"

Ivy positively glowed and laughed for him. Willow smiled, looking back out the window.

See, sweetheart? Why can't it be like this all the time?

Why did it always have to be so hot and cold? Tensions and eggshells and explosions followed by moments of such sweet-tasting reprieve, cool balms on the brow of an anxious household. He could be such a good dad when he was in a good place. She listened to the sweet back and forths behind her, letting it lull her like a melody. The pleased ooh'ing and aah'ing's of an impressed father and the silly laughter of a daughter who knew he was playfully pandering, but delighted in his pander all the same.

"Will," Hunter said, drawing her attention more clearly back to him. "I saw that boy, what's his name, James-something…"

"Jamison Harley," she filled in.

"Yeah," Hunter's tone sounded irked, but he continued. "He stopped me on the way back home. He was out by the road fixing his fence. Anyway, he said his wife had some starter for you."

"Oh yeah," she smiled. "Sydney. She's giving me some of her mother from her sourdoughs."

"He said he'd stop by later and bring it."

"Did he? That's nice of him."

"Does he stop by often?"

A small knot formed in her belly. She closed her eyes a moment, focusing. Measured tone, stay natural and pleasant, but not so pleasant it raised suspicion. Don't sound defensive. Don't use definitives.

This,she thought.This is what I mean. Can't it just be a good morning?

"No, not really. I think he's only ever stopped by when you're here sweetheart."

"Not really?"

Willow took another centering breath, preparing her response. She glanced toward the small pen where Oliver, the goat, usually lounged in indolent contentment. A spike of anxiety shot through her. The pen stood empty, its gate ajar and swaying slightly in the afternoon breeze.Shit, she thought. She hurriedly wiped her hands on her apron and turned. Hunter has noticed the frenetic movement and cast her a quizzical, suspicious expression.

"Shoot," she said, pitching herself to sound as though she'd only just recalled something. Hunter looked up, his green eyes clear and assessing. "I forgot I needed to go forage in the woods for dinner. We're low on mushrooms and I needed to get some berries for the pie tonight too. Could you keep an eye on Ivy, help her with her schoolwork?" She quirked a coy little smile on her mouth. "You're much better at math than I am."

Hunter's face pinched, his lips thinning to a line. He was suspicious of the sudden shift, the change in topic. She might suffer for this later. But if she could find the goat before Hunter knew anything was amiss, everyone could be happy. Finally he nodded his head, setting down his rifle and moving forward to peck her on the lips. His hands ran up and down her arms.

"Sure thing, Will. Be safe out there. Take one of the shot guns."

"Of course," she smiled, leaning up to kiss him once more.

She made a show of picking up a woven basket hanging on a wall, along with a shotgun kept by the door and wandered casually out of the house. She couldn't feel Hunter's attention on her and, daring a look back, noticed indeed he was not watching her from the door or the window. She hurried to the pen Oliver was kept in, closed and latched the gate, and was mindful still of keeping a calm pace toward the woods. Every step screamed in her body. She was losing previous seconds. But the more controlled and natural she looked, on the off chance he looked outside, the less the chance she aroused suspicion. Once she was confidently out of sight of the house, she broke into a run, her heart pounding with more than just exertion. She had to find Oliver before Hunter discovered him missing.

The forest was a patchwork of light and shadow, the canopy above rustling with the movements of birds and small animals. Vo'kuith reveled in the sounds and the delightful scents. It was still early to begin a hunt, he had camp to properly set up still, but retracing old steps in a familiar landscape and noting subtle changes, and yet a timeless consistency, was more pleasing at this time. And was he not here for his own pleasure? This was not a mission, not a formal venture. Therefore he could indulge in some free time and nonproductivity.

Much was, indeed, as he remembered it. This part of the forest offered a babbling river. It's bubbling and quiet conversation was deeper in tone than when he'd last been here. It was getting deeper with age as it wore at the ground and smoothed rocks underneath. More, he noticed it was even carving a new little path, a soft bended area with a slower current, a shallow pool.

His thoughts traced back to the small settlement he'd monitored, finding nothing of particular note. The family residing there all had indicators of good health and his visor's various sensors aided him in noting a plethora of weapons within the home. The adult female was recovering from some sort of injury to her abdomen, with hot bruising lighting up her body from there and along her face. It was curious to him, and he could make guesses as to the cause, but it was not his purview to be concerned. The female and children were of not threat to his hunt. The elder male could be, and therefore was worthy of monitoring.

He paused in his stroll, noting a rustling in the distance. From a line of bushes a small, tan goat toddled from the foliage. It blinked up at him, bleated, and proceeded to wander to the small circle of water. It lapped at the river, unbothered by Vo'kuith's presence. He scoffed quietly, more amused by the animal's complete lack of care than offended. Ah, ignorance was indeed bliss, was it not?

His mask's sensor flared to life, alerting him of more interesting elements in the forest. To the east of him, a large predatory cat prowled. Perhaps it had picked up on the scent of a domesticated animal and thus an easy meal. Vo'kuith shifted back into the trees and activated his cloaking device, giving space to watch the hunt, and perhaps partake as well. The goat was of no particular value or honor, a large predator however…

The mountain lion prowled closer to the goat, creeping, beautifully blending into its surroundings. He watched the muscles shift and roll beneath the rich tan fur. Its eyes, golden brown, held the goat in close attention.

His mask alerted again, drawing his attention westerly, the direction of the farmstead. The elder female, he noted her heat patterns instantly, picked and fumbled her way through the forest.

Based on the awkward movement and the noise of the Ooman, he was surprised she hadn't startled off every animal within a one-mile radius. The large cat had paused in its hunt, monitoring the noises the female made. Vo'kuith hunkered down lower. Typically, large beasts would scamper off upon the arrival of Oomans. While potentially not a threat, most large animals in these parts acted as though the risks outweighed the benefits. Not this predator though.

From the tree line, the female started to emerge. She spotted the goat and gasped, starting forward without hesitation.

"Oliver," she breathed. Relief was clear in the relaxing of her muscles and easing of her shoulders. She fumbled past a dense bush, her skirt catching in the bramble. In one hand she held a basket, in another a firearm. She tore her skirt loose and began forward again, but paused in her step. Vo'kuith wasn't sure what alerted her to the danger. He was quite certain she couldn't see the mountain lion, or him, yet, she froze. She stood still, assessing the environment. A pale hand came out, gesturing at the goat.

"O-Oliver," she hissed. "Oliver! Come here!"

The goat ignored her, as it did the rest of its surroundings, continuing to drink from the stream still. Vo'kuith watched the mountain lion's muscles ripple beneath its tawny coat. It crouched lower, amber eyes fixed on the goat, and darting to the female, before finalizing on its dinner.

"Oliver, come! Come here! Damnit goat!" Willow started a few steps forward, tentative in her movements, but the next moment the mountain lion darted forward as well. She spotted it, just as it moved, and shouted. She dropped the basket and lifted the shotgun, firing off a shot. It was a wild one, nowhere near the large cat or the goat, but it startled the cat and frightened the goat, which bolted off into the forest.

The mountain lion hesitated. Vo'kuith knew such animals, if not having run from an Ooman initially, typically ran from firearms. They were more skittish than aggressive. Perhaps this one was more hungry than normal, or perhaps it simply saw the flaws in the woman's defense. It rounded toward her, snarling. Its whiskers flared and sharp teeth caught the sunlight through the trees. The woman's eyes grew wide and the shot of adrenaline in her system filled Vo'kuith's senses. It smelled brilliantly acidic, almost citrus. It jolted through his own bloodstream, his heart beginning to pound.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," the woman gasped, leveling the gun once more. Her hands trembled. Her lips pursed. Despite the fear Vo'kuith scented, there was something else in her. A vigorous, potent rage brewing. It filled the air like spicy embers, mingled with the acidity of her fear, the bite of gunpowder. She bared her blunt little teeth. "Fuck off!" she yelled, brandishing the gun.

The large cat yowled again, raking claws out at her, and resumed stalking toward its new prey. She tried to back up slowly, keeping her attention on the feral beast that tracked her. Her heel hit the basket she'd dropped. She stumbled and fell backward, landing on her bottom. The mountain lion's muscles bunched, preparing, and then it sprang forward as she fell. As the cat launched itself at her, the female gathered her wits faster than Vo'kuith expected. She raised the gun and fired again. The shot grazed the cat and it stumbled back, furious now, and rushed her before the next shot.

He should let this play out, Vo'kuith thought. This was not his concern, not his business.

Perhaps it was the scent of her adrenaline, or the wild, furious look in her eyes, or the way his heart pounded or the way it all brought something delicious to life in him, but he moved on instinct. He burst from the forest behind her. The claws of his gauntlet extended and impaled the mountain lion.