I had to remind myself of that every day, because if I made one mistake, the repercussions would be fatal. For years now, I'd been trying to understand the difference between what I saw with my own eyes, what my mother had told me as a boy, and the things we'd been taught in the compound as children. I was pretty sure I finally understood.
But the rapping of a gavel on the wooden table made my head snap up. I was an idiot of a man. A big, stupid - but useful - fool. Strong enough to be picked for any chore I desired, dumb enough to never be given responsibility over others. In other words, free to do my own thing most days.
Sadly, not today. As the Council of Elders called the monthly men's meeting to order, I dared to glance around. Every able bodied man in the compound was required to be here. The room always started off cold, but quickly warmed with the press of so many bodies. At the front, the group of Elders sat proudly, nothing but old men with too much privilege.
To the side were the two Elders not serving on the council. Mr. Ross and Mr. Danburn had long since lost their wits to the ravages of time. They were still respected among the Righteous, though. They had served the people well, and now, they deserved to enjoy their retirement.
"Good morning, gentlemen," Mr. Saunders said as he looked across the room. "I would like to bring this meeting to order. First off, as it is the end of the month, we have three young women turning twenty in September. Mr. Morgan has already spoken for Bronna Chambers. Darla Harrows and Selah Dixon are both still awaiting a suitor."
That made the men around me begin to murmur. Darla Harrows was not an attractive girl, but she was quiet and gentle. Selah Dixon, on the other hand, was shapely, even if her ears were a little larger than expected. The Lord said we should not be too picky, though. All men were expected to be married by the time we reached thirty. Ideally, we should have a child within two years of that, and once our first wife passed, then we could worry about a woman's beauty.
The chatter in the crowd finally began to die down, which made Mr. Saunders lift his hand. "I would like to ask about the status of the hunters? We've had two unsuccessful hunts, and the storage rooms are getting low."
"Sir," Mr. Baird said, pushing to his feet. "I have been sending out additional gatherers to collect the tributes of vegetables."
"Which is helping," Mr. Saunders relented, "but that is not the same as meat! We have growing boys to feed!"
"And many dead because of it," Mr. Myers countered. "Reynold, we've lost almost an entire team of hunters."
"The people still need meat!" Mr. Saunders snapped, slapping his palm down on the table. "Do not tell me our fittest young men are incapable of feeding the compound. Do we need more? Do we need to retire the incompetent? I hear the fungus farms on the lower level need attention."
My eyes jumped across the room to where Jamison sat with his head hanging. Harvesting fungus would likely be his next duty to the compound. The damage to his shoulder was permanent. The man would never be able to lift a gun again - or a rod.
It had been little more than a week since we returned from the last excursion. My crew had been considered successful. I'd carried back four of the heavy bags left on the hillside myself. The hunters, on the other hand, couldn't say the same.
The men were still whispering about the Phoenix. Once, the Wyvern had been the monster they feared in the forest. Now it was a little slip of a girl. One who had once been ours. One who'd figured out how to free herself, and from the name she'd chosen, I had a feeling she was doing just fine above ground.
"We're going to need to start training the boys younger," Mr. Morgan said, making everyone look over in surprise.
"Excuse me?" Mr. White asked. "Which boys?"
"The ones still in sermon," Mr. Morgan explained. "Mr. Cassidy, I'm sure the older boys know their subjects well enough?"
"They do..." Mr. Cassidy replied from his seat in the front row.
That made a few of the Elders nod approvingly. Mr. Morgan just kept going. "So why don't we start including a training session for them with the hunters? Get them prepared and ready for when they turn twenty and are no longer in lessons?"
"Or..." Mr. Saunders said. "Maybe we should start sending them to hunt?"
"We're not that low on numbers," Mr. Worthington said, standing so he could be spotted. "Sirs, while we have taken heavy losses recently, my hunters can adapt. We've done this before, when the Dragons began fighting back."
Mr. Saunders made a warning noise at the leader of the hunters. Mr. Worthington had just come a little too close to the truth, and that was not to be done inside the compound. The Dragons attacked us. We did not attack them. We merely defended ourselves while trying to gather food for the compound because the Earth was a dangerous place. Nothing more, nothing less. It would not do to cause concern among the Righteous, after all.
But I listened. I kept my head down and silently noted the numbers the Elders discussed. Nearly one hundred dead in the last two months. Too many widows. Not enough boys in the children's wing. I had to fight the urge to scoff, because fewer children meant fewer mouths to feed, but that wasn't the real concern.
Back and forth, the elders bickered about how to solve our problem. Numbers. That was the answer they finally came down to just before they opened the floor to any men with a concern. I sat a little straighter at that, feeling my guts twisting with nerves.
But before I could lift my hand to be recognized, a man stepped forward, taking his place at the end of the row, directly before the Council of Elders. He was thin, tense, and just starting to grey. I wasn't familiar with him, at least not from this angle.
"I would like to ask the Council of Elders for permission to transfer from the fungus farm to gathering. I am not so old, sirs, as to be unable to carry the bags."
"Why?" Mr. White asked, dragging out the word. "Tell me, Mr. Galloway, what do you think this will do for you?"
"It might make me more appealing to the girls," Mr. Galloway replied. "I've been turned down twice now. My first wife has been dead for three years, and I have yet to find a lady willing to accept my proposal, sirs."
"Then look at the widows," Mr. Saunders grumbled. "We are not in need of gatherers, Mr. Galloway, and you are not strong enough to serve as a hunter. Denied!"
The man dropped his head and shuffled back, but now was my time. Shoving to my feet, I banged into the chair in front of me, making the man in it grunt. I lifted a hand in apology, then stumbled a little more, making my way to the aisle.
There, I hurried forward, aware all eyes were on me. Dear God, I hated this, but it was necessary. That man had just given me the opening I needed, so I couldn't dawdle. I had to do this now, and get this right!
"Sirs," I mumbled, clasping my hands before me. No, on second thought, I should clasp them behind me, showing my size. "I would like to formally ask the Council of Elders for permission to court Callah Atwood."
My heart was pounding against my ribs. My skin felt too cold - and like it was tingling. I could hear my breath rasping against the inside of my ears. Everyone in the room was now looking at me, and I was too damned big to hide anywhere. Instead, I lifted my chin a little more.
"Tobias Warren?" Reynold Saunders turned his acidic gaze on me. "Are you not a child of a quarantined woman?"
"I am, sir," I said, wondering if I should sound like an idiot now, or just keep it simple.
He replied before I got the chance to decide. "And Miss Atwood is also from a mother in quarantine?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but it was too dry to make a sound. Swallowing desperately, I just nodded, hoping that would be enough.
"Mr. Warren, are you not worried about the risk to your children?" Mr. White asked. "Both of your mothers have been corrupted by the Devil. What would you do if your children were possessed because of the pairing?"
"Have I not proven myself?" I asked. "I carry all the bags I'm told to. I bring back as much as two men. If you need me to do more, sirs, then list it. I will gladly serve the Righteous. I just..."
"What?" Mr. Saunders demanded. "Spit it out, boy!"
