Chapter Six

Mateo stood up, and Maeve realized how hungry she was. The slice of bread from earlier was long forgotten. Reluctantly, a confused Maeve turned and began walking with Mateo in the direction of the food. She was in a situation where she had to put her trust and her life in the hands of strangers. She did not like feeling helpless, but what was she to do otherwise?

She didn't think they were bad people here and felt safe around them, even the wolves, but she hadn't judged John very well, and look where that had gotten her. So, she was questioning her ability to read people and their intentions. She had been too trusting in the past, and that part of her had been fundamentally changed.

As they approached the food line, Maeve was struck by the amazing smells. She was reminded of the delicious soup she had eaten the night before.

"Do the same people always do the cooking?" asked Maeve.

"Usually, it is Abuela Rosa with some helpers," said Sofia. "She plans the meals for the whole camp and does a lot of the cooking. She will send us off with lists of foods needed for the week when we do our supply runs. If you stick around, I'm sure she'll put you to work."

"Stick around?" Maeve questioned. She couldn't imagine staying. Her goal was to get back home. To return to her job, her car, the cabin she had inherited from her grandmother. She just wanted to return to normal life and forget about all of this.
She glanced at her hands, though, and realized there was no going back to normal. Not with the knowledge that she could produce flames from her fingertips. How did that even happen to begin with? What was wrong with her that this was even a possibility? And why didn't she feel more frightened by it?

The black wolf that had been following along Mateo's side moved up ahead of the small group.

"Are you his...master?" Maeve asked. "Is that why he's always beside you?"

Mateo let out a long, loud laugh while the wolf looked back at Maeve, glaring. She didn't know how she knew he was glaring at her, but it was the feeling she got. Other people looked over at them and smiled.

"No one owns the wolves," said Mateo, still chuckling.

"I don't get this," she gestured to the camp. "It just seems..."

"Unnatural?" asked Mateo.

"I guess?" responded Maeve.

"You'll understand soon," he promised. "In the meantime, you have given me the best laugh I have had in a while. It might be nice to keep you around, Maeve."

The wolf turned his glaring eyes to Mateo, who grinned in return.

"Looks like there's some food left," interrupted Sofia.

They were each handed plates heaped with eggs, bacon, and tortillas. Maeve followed Mateo and Sofia over to a long table. She saw the black wolf move off toward the other side of the camp.

"Does he have a name?" she asked.

Mateo was spooning eggs onto a tortilla.

"Who?" he asked.

"The wolf? Any of the wolves. Do they have names?"

"No," responded Mateo, setting bacon on top of his eggs. He added hot sauce from a bottle on the table and expertly rolled his tortilla into a burrito. He looked up at Maeve.

"How do you call them to you?" she asked.

"We don't. They know what to do," he answered, taking a large bite of his breakfast burrito.

Maeve was thoroughly confused at this point, but she was too hungry to ask more questions. She put eggs and bacon onto the tortilla as she had seen Mateo do, and then tried to wrap it. She couldn't figure out how to close the ends so the food wouldn't fall out when she took a bite, so she just folded one side over and held the open side up to her mouth.

"Never rolled a burrito before?" a voice asked.

Maeve looked up mid-bite to see Javier and two other men approaching the table with plates of food.

The one who had spoken sat down directly across from her, next to Sofia, and said, "Give me that."

Maeve hesitated.

"My hands are clean," he said, showing his palms. "You need to fold the ends in first and then roll."

He rerolled the burrito and slid the plate back toward her. Maeve picked up the burrito and smiled when nothing fell out.

"Geez, Sofia, you couldn't show her how to make a burrito properly?" he said, nudging Sofia's elbow. Sofia shook her head.

"Meet Tomas," she said. "Camp clown."

This made Tomas grin. He was tall and broad-shouldered, built like a heavyweight prize fighter. He was the kind of man who filled a space the moment he walked into it. His dark hair was a little too long, and he wore a grin that suggested he was either about to tell a joke or cause trouble. He seemed more approachable than intimidating, but Maeve sensed he could be very dangerous if he needed to be.

"Tomas Rivera at your service," he tipped a pretend hat in Maeve's direction.

"Maeve Callahan," she stated.

"Maeve Callahan? What is that? A name you made up?"

"It's Irish," Maeve said tightly. She felt like she was being attacked.

"Whoa, whoa," Tomas raised his hands in surrender. "Just teasing."

"He doesn't always know when to stop," said Sofia.

Tomas winked at her and took a bite of his burrito.

"Don't scare her away already," said Mateo sternly.

He nodded toward Javier, who had rounded the table and set his plate next to hers.

"You met Javi last night."

"Javier, not Javi," Javier stated firmly.

Maeve had not yet seen Javier in daylight. While they were a striking group of people collectively, something about Javier stood out to Maeve. She noticed that he was now wearing a tank top that showed the defined muscles of his arms and more tattoos than she had seen the night before. She looked at the tattoos curiously, wondering about their meaning.

She saw that he had a small silver hoop earring in each ear and wore a silver chain around his neck. A matching chain bracelet circled each wrist. He seemed to prefer silver accessories. Her inspection moved to his face, where his deep brown eyes were staring back at her, studying her just as intently.

She turned her head away quickly, giving her food her undivided attention. Except when he sat down, she could feel him. Not physically, but something inside her acknowledged his presence, almost like a nod of approval. She could not understand this instinctual reaction to him. It reminded her of how she instantly felt at ease with the large, black wolf that had carried her back to camp the night before. This place was messing with her ability to think rationally.

Mateo spoke again, "And next to him is Diego."

Maeve leaned forward to see Diego. He was shorter than Tomas and leaner than Javier. His dark hair was short and messy, and his eyes were sharp and constantly moving, taking in everything around him. He smiled easily, and Maeve got the impression he was the kind of person who noticed things before anyone else did.

"So, you're The Living Flame," he said as a way of greeting.

Sofia made a choking sound.

Maeve looked at her immediately. "What does that mean?"

Sofía looked serious. "That is a conversation for Lucia and Abuela Rosa."

Maeve sighed. "Everyone here talks like they're part of a secret club."

Sofía smiled. "In a way, we are. Would you like to join?"

"Actually, what I really want to do is get home. Does anyone know how that can happen?"

Everyone was silent.

"Going home is dangerous for you right now," Mateo said. "You were already taken from your home once. How do you know they won't come after you again? On top of that, you have demonstrated a concerning power that needs protection. We can't let you go home yet."

"Let me?" asked Maeve quietly. She could feel the heat rising in her chest.

"Who do any of you people think you are! First, taking me from my home, and now not letting me return? Are you the ones who took me in the first place? Is this all some charade to make me think you are the good guys?"

Maeve's hands gripped the table tightly as her anger rose.

"Maeve," said Sofía.

"Maeve!" she yelled again.

"What?" Maeve snarled in return.

"Your hands."

Maeve looked down to see the table smoking where she was gripping it. She snatched her hands away, seeing the burn marks that were left behind. Turning her hands over, she once again saw the flames roiling under her skin. The scent of fire and burnt wood was strong.

As she stared at her hands, Maeve felt the first waves of panic take hold. She had no control over the fire within herself. No control over whether she could go back home. No control over her future now that her grandmother was gone. No control over her life at all. She felt like she was spiraling completely out of control, and all this strong emotion fed the fire within. Closing her eyes, she could feel the flames coming alive.

Then a hand landed gently on her arm, providing a counterweight, a balance to the chaos rising in her body. The sensation brought a sense of calm over her. She felt her panic ease, her anger begin to dissipate.

Opening her eyes, she saw the hand on her arm and the silver chain encircling the wrist. She looked over to Javier incredulously. His touch had provided an almost instant relief from the storm that had almost encompassed her body.

"How did you do that?" she asked with awe in her voice.

"I don't know," Javier whispered back.

Maeve turned to everyone else at the table. They were all staring at them. And people at the other tables were staring, too. Maeve couldn't handle all of the eyes on her. She stood up and moved away from the table.

"I'm going to go lie down," she said before walking back toward the tents.

Once she was back on her cot, Maeve let the tears fall. She wished her grandmother were here to talk her through this. To counsel her and guide her. Now, she had no one, and she had never felt more alone. As the tears continued to fall, Maeve permitted sleep to separate her from reality.