Luna’s days grew busy. Chickadee remained chained to the fence, alongside two of her close male friends, Peter and Aaron, who were there as back up, for bathroom breaks when necessary. They — Peter, Aaron, and Chickadee — had apparently done this before, they had plans, were organized, and talked a lot about past “actions.” The encampment around Chickadee grew.

Camp chairs with umbrellas were assembled in a circle beside coolers full of food. Beckett’s Aunt Dilly arrived with a truckload of fruits and vegetables from their farm community. She drove the truck right up to the fence, then she and Chickadee lead the rest in banging with sticks, making a riotous ruckus, until a guard arrived to unlock the gate. They passed food into the pen. It wasn’t enough for everyone, but every child and the breastfeeding mother got something, Luna was happy about that.

Dilly also brought toilet paper and tampons and pads, beating the city’s supplies, and outraging Chickadee, who bellowed and carried on and on about it. “Roscoe you’ll be filing about this — you see, don’t you? These people are being treated like animals, you see this, don’t you?”

Roscoe nodded, said, “I do indeed see,” and tromped off back to an office to discuss the matter.

More people showed up, including, as Chickadee had promised, a film crew. Luna acted as mediator between the Waterfolk and everyone camped outside the fence.

A group of students with clipboards arrived, invited by Roscoe, to interview the Waterfolk through the links. They asked for their full name, age, family, and how long they had been in the camp. Also, what their typical nutritional load had been before the camp and since. Some of the particularly interesting interviews were filmed. Roscoe asked for copies of everything.

On the third night, after the bustle of talking, bellowing, interviewing, and generally acting as hostess of the whole place all day, Chickadee was exhausted. She reclined in her camp chair, feet up on a cooler, a bag of popcorn balanced on her bosom. She stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth, wiped her buttery fingers on a napkin and grinned. “These asses better figure something out soon, I do not want to have to go on a hunger strike.”

Luna sat cross-legged on the other side of the fence, marveling at Chickadee’s commitment. None of this was her trouble at all, yet here she was. “Thank you.”

Chickadee said, “You don’t have to thank me dear, for any of this — this is human decency is what this is.” She raised her voice, “Am I right Peter — Human decency!”

Peter said, “You’re right Chickadee, as always.”

Luna chuckled. She was so grateful. Even if Chickadee didn’t want her to say it. Luna was used to people who went with the flow — Chickadee was a blockade, a course changer, a power house. She didn’t do anything by consensus. She demanded your compliance, then she called you baby and love and sweetly smiled, and you had to do what she wanted. She had set her mind to this and believed she was right and that this was important and somehow, through sheer force of personality, everyone went along with it. And she was on Luna’s side.

That was a nice change. To have someone on her side.

Actually many someones. Roscoe was working tirelessly. Dilly, who was almost an exact opposite of Chickadee, thin and spiky, poetical and demure, had thrown her all into Luna’s cause, simply because Chickadee had said it was important. They seemed to trust each other in everything.

Luna said, “I mean thank you for something else beyond the human decency.”

Chickadee smiled, popped another handful of popcorn in her mouth, and chewed. “Luna, I really haven’t done anything for you in this short time that requires a thank you.”

Luna said, “Except for the fact that you were so accepting of me. Like I am. Caged. Alone. Absolutely nothing to my name — and it’s not even my name — it’s Beckett’s name.” Luna looked at the fence separating them, the spiraling spiked wires above and the mud below. “You just met me and I just met Beckett. By my calculations he and I have been together a few days in the course of a few weeks, and if you think about it, honestly, I’ve been nothing but trouble for him. And you. But somehow you’re still here, and you’re being so nice, even though I don’t deserve it. If Beckett hadn’t come searching for me, he wouldn’t be in trouble right now.”

Chickadee watched her as she spoke, her brows furrowed. “Dearest one, did Beckie tell you about his childhood?”

Luna shook her head.

Chickadee said, “Well, It’s not my place to. And maybe Beckett never tells you, because sometimes we need to share what is before us, instead of dwelling in the past. It’s his right to tell or not, but I will say this — it was the kind of childhood that could break a person. But it didn’t. Beckett came out of it, let’s say, awesome. I’m his aunt though, I might be partial.” She chuckled and wiped her fingers on the napkin that was now a wad of very butter-slimed paper. “Beckie deserves a big love story — the kind that follows the stars and jumps from buildings and loses its mind under the constellations. He deserves the kind of story that makes you breathless when you hear about it. And when you told me the story the other night, about how you met, and how you fell in love, I got a little breathless at the thought. That’s the kind of love story he deserves. And so I might not know you very well,” she shifted her ample bottom in the camp chair, “but I trust you because you’re the woman at the other side of that story.”

Chickadee dropped the empty bag of popcorn beside her chair. “If you hadn’t found Beckett what would have happened to you?”

Luna sifted some pebbles near her knee. “I’m not sure.”

Chickadee looked at her more piercingly. “I think you do know.”

“Yeah, I know, but I guess I don’t want to dwell on the past but look at the future.”

Chickadee smiled. “Of course dear. I’m not going to say it will be easy, but I’m glad you’re here.”

Luna asked, “Is Beckett okay?”

“I’m not going to lie to you, the prison is not allowing visitors. His case is dire. But Roscoe’s working it, and he’s a genius. In the meantime, Beckett is sitting tight, waiting to be let out. Like you. Oh, we’ll have fun, all of us, when you’re both home. And if you think I’m a hoot, wait until you see Dilly when she’s preparing some fabulistic spoken word for one of our parties.”

“How did you two meet?”

Chickadee closed her eyes and folded her hands on her rounded belly. “It was in a Political Science class in college. I took one look at her and — ka-pow! So when I walked down the aisle I made sure to bump her desk and sent her pencil cascading to the floor. Back then I was already sporting ample hips, so it was easy to do, and when I looked behind me, to see if she noticed, her eyebrow was arched like Cleopatra, and she had a smile on the edge of her lips. She said, ‘Would you like to go get a cup of tea with me after class?’ Which everyone knows means fall in love with me, so I did. I fell in love.”

Chickadee opened one eye and looked at Luna, “It’s okay if that didn’t make you breathless, the good stuff came later. Someday I’ll tell you about it, but now I need some sleep.”

Luna nodded. “You ought to get some, the rain will be here mid-morning.”

Chickadee opened her eyes. “Rain? But there’s no roof on this pen!” She grunted up out of her chair. “This is unconscionable!”

She bellowed toward the building, “I want tarps. Enough tarps for the entire pen, by morning, or my lawyer Roscoe will sue you until I’m sitting under a roof made of your cash!”