“I’m sorry, Karl. For you and for Ruth.”

“Yeah, well. Personally, I hope that bridge is burned for good. Not sure what that says about me, but I hope it is.”

“You love your wife and don’t want to see her hurt.” Monty studied his partner, an uneasy feeling corseting his ribs. Even before the storm and the difficulty of transporting food and other goods between the regions, it was less expensive to buy food in the Courtyard than in other stores in the city. With prices going up even more, and with some food items in short supply, would there be pressure from friends and family on those who had access to the Courtyard to supply them with food as well?

Was selling food under the table one of those options Jimmy was exploring? Gods.

“I’m piecing this together from things the girls overheard or were told by Nadine, who has more information about raw food supplies than the rest of us since her bakery is now operating within A Little Bite,” Kowalski continued. “When Simon Wolfgard made the apartment residents part of the Courtyard and, therefore, among the beings who could eat the food produced within the Courtyard or brought in from the farms that supply the Courtyard, the Others figured out they would need an extra fifty pounds of meat per week to provide for their tenants. Someone figured out that amounted to twenty-four ounces of meat for each human—roughly four good-size burgers or a small roast or meat for a stew. And that means the Wolves now have to bring down two deer each week instead of one because the quantity of beef and pork being sent to the Courtyard from earth native farms hasn’t changed.”

“And a pack isn’t successful at every hunt.”

“The deer herd has been self-sustaining because the Wolves won’t kill a fawn unless it’s already injured. But how long will that be true if more deer are killed than reproduce?”

Now Monty understood why he would have to talk to Louis Gresh. Every purchase of meat from the Market Square butcher shop was putting pressure on the Wolfgard. Regardless of whether the Wolves preferred eating deer or moose over beef, some members of their pack—mainly Meg Corbyn—preferred beef and pork. The day Meg went hungry because some other human had bought the last pound of meat or the last dozen eggs was the day there would be a significant change in the relationship between the humans in Lakeside and the terra indigene—and that change would not be good.

“You have any thoughts about this?” he asked.

“Now that the mayor has implemented the fair-distribution act so that each butcher shop receives a percentage of the meat coming in from another region, twenty-four ounces is the per-person, per-week limit a registered customer can reserve at a butcher shop,” Kowalski replied. “The kind of meat doesn’t matter. That’s the total.”

“A significant change for most households—except for the few of us who can buy that amount from two sources.”

Kowalski nodded. “The girls talked it over, and they’re going to purchase what they can from the human stores because we can buy rationed goods and the Others can’t. The terra indigene can buy pizzas at Hot Crust or eat at the Saucy Plate, but they can’t go into a butcher shop and buy a roast. So the girls are thinking that if we sell half the meat ration to the Courtyard each week—and by ‘sell’ I mean receiving a credit equal to the amount we paid for the meat—we can buy a sandwich at A Little Bite or have a meal at Meat-n-Greens without putting a squeeze on the Others. Nadine is going to float the idea to Tess.”

“I’ll talk to my mother. She may have some ideas. Even during lean times, she made sure we ate pretty well.” Monty thought for a moment, then looked at Kowalski, fighting not to smile. “Or is my mama one of the girls?”

Kowalski blushed and concentrated on his driving.

“There is the creek running through the Courtyard. Maybe a few of us should try to catch some fish.” Were there places along the shore of Lake Etu where people went to fish? He’d never been interested in the activity, but it was another source of food.

A weighted silence. Finally, Kowalski said, “We’re not going far enough into the Courtyard to reach the creeks. Won’t be for a while.”

Surprised, Monty turned toward his partner. “Why? I thought you and Michael were riding your bicycles along the Courtyard roads. Did you have a problem with the Wolfgard who are guests here?”

“Not with them, no. I’m not an Intuit, but I am a cop. Michael and I both have a feeling that there are other guests in the Courtyard right now, guests no one mentions—at least not to any of us.”

Elders. Even the word made Monty shiver. Gods above and below, had they returned to the Courtyard?

Monty’s mobile phone rang. “Montgomery.” He listened for a minute, then hung up. “That was the captain. He and I are expected at the mayor’s office in thirty minutes.”

“Trouble?” Kowalski asked.

“Only the type and degree are in question.” After a moment, Monty added quietly, “Your idea of adding what we can to the communal pot is a good one. It’s better for everyone if it doesn’t look like we expect the Wolfgard to hunt for us. Better yet if we bring what meat we can to the table.”

Stopped at a red light, Kowalski looked at Monty and nodded.

They didn’t need the words. There had been no need to fill out a DLU form lately, or check the cairn where keys and wallets might be left when nothing else remained of a missing person. But if the terra indigene were squeezed out of eating their usual prey, they would go hunting outside the Courtyard for a different kind of meat.