(Where good manners wear thin, and Ma don’t miss a thing)
They rolled into the holler at dusk, Dexter, Dexter II, and a quieter, leaner shadow the cousins dubbed Dexter III. Said they were wanderers, helpers, here to lend a hand.
“Not lookin’ to take over or stir anything up,” Dexter said, voice slick as deer tallow. “We just like helpin’ smaller clans grow.”
Ma felt that familiar itch at the base of her neck. It was the exact same line the Robinhood Raiders used before they got too cozy.
But Dexter and his crew worked. The first two had the strength and experience to prove useful, and even the third, though green, took to chores without grumblin’. They pulled stumps, cleaned gear, patched leathers. When war came, they followed instructions without a fuss, and Dexter in particular?
He made himself useful.
He and Pa took to long, quiet strategy talks on the porch or by the woodpile. Dexter knew the ropes. Ma didn’t follow every tactic they laid out, but she watched, and there was something about the way Pa interacted with someone who understood war and strategy like he did, explaining things with that rare glint in his eye, that made her smile. She wasn’t the strategist, never claimed to be, but seeing Pa in his element reminded her why they had become partners in the first place.
For a while, things ran smooth.
Until they didn’t.
It started small.
Dexter would hang around the cookfire a little too long, offer to carry Ma’s pot when she hadn’t asked, or lean just a little too close when she was bent over the stew.
“You sure you ain’t put a love spell in this?” he said once, flashing that grin as she handed him his bowl. “’Cause I’d follow you to the woodshed for another bite.”
Ma gave him a look.
“I ain’t the one needs a woodshed right now,” she replied, deadpan. “But if you’re offerin’, I can fetch Pa.”
Another time, when Ma said she was headed to watch a younger cousin’s strike in the sparring pit, Dexter piped up behind her: “I see that Ma likes to watch.”
Looty nearly choked on his cornbread.
Ma didn’t flinch, but her spoon hit the edge of the pot a little harder than necessary.
She tossed back, “Better to be a voyeur than a victim. You might wanna write that down.”
He just winked, like it was a game. Later, when Ma’s unrelated comment about spice levels in the stew got a few laughs from the cousins, Dexter said loud enough for everyone to hear: “Careful now. Supernatural censors tend to come after folks who like to watch.”
That night, she sat with Pa on the porch while the fire in the clearing popped low and the Dexters bunked down near the edge of the ridge.
“He’s polite,” she began, slow. “And useful. I’ll give him that.”
Pa didn’t respond, just took a sip from his cup.
“But somethin’s off,” she continued. “Feels familiar. Not in a good way.”
Pa didn’t argue. Just muttered, “You’re always suspicious,” he said. “You got ‘sus’ stitched into your apron.
“I notice things,” Ma retorted. “I got a whole scroll of suspicious things he’s said and done and he added to it last night, even.”
Pa rubbed his beard. “You think he’s someone we threw out at some point? Or is it Anny?”
“Could be Anny but I don’t think so.” She paused, letting the mountain air fill the space. “It…it feels like maybe he’s someone associated with the Raiders that were here before. I don’t know what the motive would be, tho. He’s being too familiar for someone so new.”
“How so?”
Ma rolled her eyes. “Same words. Same tone as the Raiders. Didn’t cross the line, but he got real cozy with it. I ain’t sayin’ he’s up to evil. But he talks too smooth, moves too easy, makes those comments like he’s testing the fence, like he’s familiar.”
“He test it with you?”
“He tapped it twice and smiled when it sparked. So. No keys for him, no matter how good and helpful he is.”
At that, Pa finally turned his head, brows rising. “Interesting.” Then, “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
A few days later, Pa had to leave the holler for a stretch, and Ma was busy too, helping Ellie and Nickie rework traps near the creek and prepping drying racks for potions and salves. So when Dexter offered to run war strategy while the elders were occupied, they allowed it.
“Just one war,” Ma said, eyeing him. “Don’t get ideas.”
He nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The war went well. Not the way Pa would’ve called it, but it worked. Won by a single star.
After that, Ma had planned to give the clan a breather. Cousins needed to rebuild and upgrade, some had chores that’d been put off, and even Bacon looked worn out.
So when Ma said, “We’re restin’ this next round,” Dexter frowned.
“That so?” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “Just feels like we’re buildin’ momentum. Would be a shame to slow it.”
“Folks need time,” Ma said plainly. “This ain’t a machine. And we promised a break after this so goblins can prepare for Territory Wars.”
He nodded, but something cooled behind his eyes.
Two days later, he and his shadows were gone.
No note, no ruckus. Just the words passed back from RG, who caught ‘em packing: “Said the holler wasn’t active enough.”
Nickie was nearby and simply said, “Well.”
“We ain’t performing for anyone,” Ma said dryly.
Ma didn’t say much at first. Just folded laundry a little sharper, stirred her brew with a touch more force.
That night, as she stood at the stove making potions after Pa returned, she finally said: “Knew something wasn’t right.”
Pa, who was reading over the final war stats, grunted. “Well, he did help.”
>
Ma nodded. “He did. And I’m glad for the extra stars. But I saw where he went after he left. It was obvious that he was already part of an established clan. I still don’t know what the motive was. And while I still don’t think it was related to Anny, what I saw in the clan Dexter ended up in did make me slightly more suspicious that she could have been behind it. But I still think it’s unlikely.”
Then, more quietly, “He never had intent to stay. I knew that from the beginning. He wasn’t ours. Not really.”
“No,” Pa agreed. “He wasn’t.”
They sat a long while in silence before Ma added, “Bacon didn’t like him.”
Pa smiled. “That pig’s got better instincts than most folks.”
Ma leaned back. “If Anny’s still pokin’ around…”
Pa cut her off gently. “Then she can keep watchin’. The lantern’s still unlit.”
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