*

They left the body and walked the ridge until they found land that eased down to the lowlands, and camped at the bottom under its looming face. It wasn’t until they were under it that they realized it was Winter Ridge, a ridge they’d named because it always looked snow-dusted, no matter the season. But it didn’t seem possible it could be Winter Ridge. They’d been so far from it. Had they accidentally followed new ruts, some shortcut, and been delivered here? Or was the Wilderness more compact than they had imagined? The Originalists tilted their heads back to see its white stone face evergreened in lush, pleasant patches. It was the closest thing some of them could get to nostalgia, a feeling of home. To see Winter Ridge meant that not too far away was their lovely hidden Valley nearest to Middle Post. Where they’d camped for almost a whole season, a few years ago, before the idea of constant moving had settled in. Being run out of that place by Rangers had felt like being cast out of a homeland, that Valley where they had become a family of sorts. With the cool, lazy river, the perfect protective bluffs, the cave that Agnes liked to play in, where her mother had kept her secret prized possessions, the secret grasses where her sister was born.

With heads still craning toward the ridge face, they circled up.

Carl said, “We’re low on provisions. We’re going to have to do a big hunt. We’ll have to stay here for days to process it all, not to mention we’ll need to make more bags to carry it. So take care to set the camp up well.”

Agnes squatted by the fire, moving dead pine needles into shapes, wondering if such a move offended the pine needles, which might prefer their own shape. Carl approached her.

“Don’t you think there will be deer toward the end of the meadow?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Agnes.

“Good. Go scout the dominant.”

“Okay.”

Agnes walked into the meadow. She knew the deer were that way because the wind was blowing that direction and they liked to be downwind from predators, which today was the Community.

“Hey.”

She stopped.

Jake jogged up. “Can I come?”

“Why?”

“So I can see how you do stuff. I need to learn stuff. Like, what are you doing?”

“Scouting the does.”

“Why?”

“To find the dominant one.”

“Why?”

Agnes scoffed. “Why? What do you mean, why?”

“I mean why.” Jake flipped his hair. “I don’t know any of this stuff.”

Agnes sighed. “Come on.”

They walked until Agnes could see a herd. Then they walked a hundred more feet, and Agnes pointed to the ground and got down. Jake got down next to her. They crawled slowly another hundred feet and stopped.

She pulled out the spotting scope and sat very still and watched the herd in the grass. She noted the markings on the biggest females. There were two that she thought could be the dominant. Their width. The shape of the snout. She brushed her hand back and forth across the grass, making an unnatural noise and movement, but not an alarming one. The deer heads popped up. The ears swiveled. All of them had reacted. So Agnes waited awhile, then clapped. The female with the highest white stockings snapped her muzzle toward the sound, paused, then snorted, and all the deer took off across the meadow.

“Okay,” Agnes said, standing up.

“Okay what?”

“We can go back.”

“Did you find out which one was dominant?”

“Yeah,” Agnes said.

“Which one?”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t.”

Agnes whistled. This was a lot of work. “The one who snorted. She was the dominant.”

“And what do you do with that information?”

“If we kill her first, the others are easier to hunt. She’s their leader. Without her, they don’t know how to protect themselves.”

“That’s sad.”

“No, it’s not.”

“But what about the babies?”

“Without the dominant, they’re even easier to kill.”

Jake winced. “No.”

“They are very useful. Their skins come right off.”

“Please stop.”

“They’re good to practice on for the kids. You should practice on one.”

“Never.”

“You will have to practice on one.”

“Is this legal?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Agnes stopped. She knew there were things that were forbidden here, but this, she couldn’t imagine taking advantage of evolution being one of them. “It’s evolution.”

“But you’re not allowed to grow things or build houses.”

“And?”

“Well, isn’t that kind of evolutionary?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, it isn’t.” She said it firmly, but she wasn’t sure. She would have to ask Glen. She hated needing to ask things. She’d rather just know. But Jake’s questions were catching her off guard. Not too long ago everyone in the group had basically known the same things, and agreed on most. Not anymore. It was tiring. They acted so different from her, the Twins and Jake. They asked such different questions, noticed such different things. They did not take for granted what she took for granted. It made her curious, but she also hated it. Hated that they were different. It made her feel different. She knew that in the place where they came from she would be considered strange. But she had come from there too.

She changed the subject. “Are the Twins really twins?”

“No. They just met on the bus as far as I know.”

“Is Patty short for Patricia?”

“No, it’s just Patty.”

“Is that a normal name?” Agnes only really knew the names of the Originalists, the Rangers, and names that came up in books they carried, names from earlier times, names from fables. They were grand-sounding. But Patty was so Patty. And Patty wasn’t a name like Val, short for something more enjoyable to say. Valeria was a song she could sing. Her own mother’s name was short for Beatrice. Beatrice was a name that stopped her cold. But her mother’s name wasn’t a name she ever had reason to say. And probably never would now that she was gone, dead, done. She wished she could remember the names of her friends from the City.

“It’s not not a normal name,” said Jake.

“Hmm.”

“Actually they were both named Celeste at first, and for a few days they went as Celeste 1 and Celeste 2. Then Blue-Hair Celeste and Plain Celeste. Then Plain Celeste announced her name was Patty. And so now they are Celeste and Patty.”

“Why Patty?”

“My guess is she always wanted to be named Patty.”

“But she gets so mad when people call her Patricia.”

“Well, that’s because her name is Patty.” Jake shrugged. “Wouldn’t you be mad if people called you something else, like Agnestia, or something?”

“But that’s not my name.”

“Exactly.”

Jake flicked his head back, removing his bangs from his face. Agnes watched them slide back. She felt in her pocket for something to cut them with, but her knife was at camp.

On their way back, they came across a rattlesnake in the grass, and before she could warn him, the snake struck out at Jake. But he’d already altered his path, arcing away from where the snake was. He hadn’t acknowledged it or jumped, or even asked, What’s that sound? which she would have expected since he was so new. He never broke his pace, and he kept going on about the Myth of the Private Lands, as he called it, which Agnes had tuned out once she heard the first telltale shakes of the rattle. Somehow, he’d noticed the snake and given it room enough that he didn’t have to be concerned, even though it wasn’t enough room for the snake to not feel anxious. Agnes guessed that if she put her fingers to his wrist she’d discover that his pulse was steady, his skin cool. She spent the rest of the walk and the day pondering this realization, and later fell asleep to images of defensive goshawks, a rutting moose, cougars hovering in the trees. Their terrorizing faces confronting Jake’s tranquility. It took a lot for someone new to the Wilderness not to be startled by all it had to display. But a lot of what?

*

They camped under Winter Ridge for several nights, hunting, restocking, gathering pine nuts from the trees that hung heavy with cones, skinning game and smoking it. The smoking tent was up and running, and everyone had a job, shadowed by a Newcomer who scurried behind trying to learn it all. The hum of a village in the shadow of the Ridge. It was so familiar.

Two trucks of Rangers rode up to their camp one morning. Ranger Bob drove one truck. The other truck carried two Rangers the Community didn’t recognize. They got out of their truck tentatively, conferring quietly with each other. Ranger Bob stayed in his truck.