Page 108 of Ruby

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Not calm—never that—but organized. Focused. Like if she keeps moving, keeps planning, she can outrun fear.

I stand carefully and walk over.

“What can I do?” I ask.

She blinks at me like I’ve said something unexpected.

“Help me count and sort,” she says, handing me a woven basket. “We’ve got dried fish, nuts, fruit, and a few roots Thivoll dug up. Some medicinal herbs. We need to know what will last and what won’t.”

I crouch beside her.

It’s oddly grounding—sorting piles, stacking, separating what’s edible now from what needs to be dried further.

“Fish first,” she mutters, passing them to me. “If we don’t smoke the rest tonight, they’ll turn.”

I wrinkle my nose.

“Guess I’m on fish duty then.”

She snorts softly. “Welcome to the glamorous life.”

I huff a laugh, then fall into rhythm beside her. For a while, we work in silence. The quiet isn’t tense. Just full.

Eventually she glances at me.

“You don’t have to help,” she says. “You just grew wings.”

“I know.” I shift, flexing one experimentally. “But if I sit there thinking about that, I’ll start spiraling.”

She nods slowly. “Fair.”

We finish counting the dried fish and move on to the nuts. I sort them into two piles—good and cracked—while Ree ties off bundles of herbs with thin strips of bark.

“So,” she says lightly, not looking at me, “what are you good at?”

I pause.

“What?”

“If we’re building something sustainable here, we need to know what everyone brings to the table.” She shrugs. “I’m medical. Triage, wound care, basic anatomy across species apparently. Kira… kills. A lot. Well, I guess that’s the role of a lot of people. What about you?”

I stare at the pile of nuts in my lap.

What am I good at?

Singing on cue. Smiling on cue. Being whatever someone else needed me to be.

“I…” I trail off.

She doesn’t rush me.

“I’m good at memorizing things,” I say finally. “Patterns. I can read people pretty well.”

“That’s useful,” she says immediately.

I almost laugh. No it isn’t. Not here.

“I can cook,” I add, thinking. “Basic stuff. Not, you know, wilderness survival gourmet.”

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