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the ground. Bull carried the
birds.
    With the exception
of Titania, the others got up and climbed down from the loft.
Porkchop set each to chores. Forest and Jelly went out to collect
plants and roots and Santa took over the fire and watched Mixer.
Narrow returned and set the water bucket on top of the stove to
warm then followed Porkchop around the barn as she explored it.
Mixer refused to sit still in Santa's lap and she put him down to
crawl.
    Jelly soon
returned with her shirt front filled with potatoes, burdock root
and wild sage.
    "The potatoes were
in the field behind the barn," she told Santa.
    They were both
thinking the same thing: We're hungry, but will we get into trouble
for taking Pater's potatoes?
    "There’s dock and
sage everywhere," she said, more to herself than to Santa, who had
already made her decision and was cutting up the spuds.
    Forest returned
with his arms full of dandelion roots, several good sized Martin
apples and some stalks of rhubarb. Santa chopped them up as
well.
    "There's more,"
said Forest. Forest had read the signs and knew that the coming
winter would be a hard one. The more food they could stockpile now,
the better.
    While Santa
cooked, Forest and Jelly returned to their foraging. Bull and Jones
came back and plucked two of the birds and gutted them. Their
innards squelched as they dropped into the empty wooden trough just
outside the barn. Bull threw hay over them to mask the smell of
blood. Santa would collect the offal after breakfast.
    They heard a crash
from somewhere inside the barn and rushed to the sound. It seemed
to take forever for them to reach the back corner, as though they
were running in slow motion. Finally, Forest, Jelly, Jones and Bull
arrived to find Porkchop standing Mixer up. Mixer promptly fell
onto his rump, twisted over and crawled away.
    "Wow! Look at
this!"
    Narrow pawed
through the heap of busted up cardboard boxes that Mixer had fallen
on. Out of them spilled a treasure trove: dishes, cups, cutlery and
utensils, pots, pans, a small grinder, a battered metal urn. That
was only what the children could see; dozens and dozens more
cardboard boxes and wooden crates were stacked along the barn's
walls, two and three deep in some cases.
    Porkchop's stomach
rumbled and she ordered everyone to gather up the dishes and help
with breakfast.
    "Plenty of time to
go through this later," she said, gesturing at the boxes.
    When the others
turned back towards the stove, Porkchop reached down and fished
something out of the heap.
    The smell of roast
pigeon wafted into the loft and finally roused Titania. She
gracefully descended the ladder and joined her siblings.
    ___
    Porkchop wanted to
get this right. Despite a howl of protest from Narrow, Porkchop
decided that they would eat only the birds for breakfast. They'd
give Pater the hare. She took Bull with her. He was a good person
to have in a fight. Not that Porkchop thought it would come to
that, but it wouldn't hurt to have him there, she thought. And she
had the knife. She'd recognized the pocket knife in the heap. Pa
had had a similar one, although his had a crudely-drawn four-leaf
clover carved into the handle. He always carried it. He must have
died with it in his pocket.
    From the base of
the porch Porkchop called out. There was a slight shift in the
front window curtain. Porkchop introduced herself and Bull.
    "The rest are in
the barn," Porkchop said loudly. "Just as you asked," she
added.
    Nothing.
    "We know how to
farm. We could work the fields for you in the spring. Lot of good
land back there."
    Silence.
    "We got a hare for
you," Bull called.
    The door was flung
open and the old man shuffled out. He had put a pair of pants over
top of his long underwear and wore a thick flannel lumberman's
jacket. He straightened up and spat. The gob landed just in front
of Porkchop's boot. He snatched the dead animal out of Bull's hands
and sniffed it.
    "Fresh. Good." He
laid the animal on the porch. "I got some rules you gotta