Geir snorted. He hadn’t seen the Chief in at least a decade. This was either about Declan or something that the People needed. He knew that rejecting the gift would be considered a slight, but he wasn’t going to commit to anything.
“Ooh!” Declan squealed, his eyes on the cardboard box sitting just above the two faded, warped planks that made up his porch steps. There was no lid, so he could see the bounty of vegetables inside.
Ro hefted up the box easily and passed it to Geir. Dill and oregano filling his nose, mixed with the tangy, green smell of tomato stems. Small baskets of tiny purple eggplants, blueberries, and a rainbow of small tomatoes rested on the top with heavier produce below.
“Wow, these are gorgeous.” Declan poked around through the basket and popped a small tomato into his mouth. “Oh, these are amazing.”
He held another one to Geir’s lips. If the box made Declan that happy, maybe he could appreciate it a lot more. Obligingly, he opened his mouth.
The tomato was… really, good, actually. Tangy and salty with just a hint of sweetness. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d truly tasted anything so fresh and enjoyable. Or really tasted anything at all. Perhaps it had to come from Declan’s hand.
Declan scooped up a few blueberries. “I love blueberries. Probably my favorite fruit.” He popped them into his mouth.
Geir was definitely buying blueberries.
“Did you grow all of these yourself? Is it like a home garden or a farm? Do you have a farm stand? This all looks so official. I bet you do.” He pulled out a tiny plum, ripe and so purple it was almost black. “What type of plum is this? And did you know that Geir has a fig tree? I didn’t know that you could grow figs this far north.”
Rohahen laughed, apparently enjoying Declan’s enjoyment. Perhaps it was inevitable that anyone who came into his orbit would be warmed by the sunshine of his personality. Geir wasn’t anything special.
“They’re Damson plums. And I grow them all, though not alone. I’ve been working on expanding our garden from meeting our own needs to being able to sell. So, I suppose you could call it a farm. We sell the tomatoes, blueberries, and lettuces. In another decade we might have enough peaches, plums, apples, and figs to sell, but right now it’s just a few older trees that are producing in any quantity. Everything else is mostly for us.”
“Oh, that’s so exciting. I’d love to see it all some time. Maybe I could buy some of your blueberries, too? We could have cobblers and muffins and, I mean, let’s be honest. I’d just eat them. That's why I need more boxes.” He grinned. “I could just live on blueberries all summer. Or maybe I can pick them? Do you do that? Have people come over to pick them? I used to go to this place out in New Jersey to pick blueberries, but it was like a tourist trap. I bet your place is much nicer.”
Rohahen blinked, apparently struggling as much as Geir to process the river of words. “I’d love to have you visit some time.”
“That would be amazing.” Declan popped a few more blueberries into his mouth. “Hey, would you like a biscuit? With figs? I didn’t have a recipe, but I made this sort of roasted fig and cinnamon thing and I think they turned out pretty well. Geir said he’d make bread later and I can’t wait. Oooh…” He turned to Geir. “Could we make bread with dill?”
Geir nodded. He could make bread with dill, especially if it would make Declan smile. He didn’t want Ro tasting the figs before he’d had some himself, though.
Declan pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then darted into the house.
“Soooo...” Rohahen dragged out the words, his dark eyes sparkling. “It looks like you and Declan are close?”
Geir wasn’t quite sure how to answer and he didn’t really want to at all. How to explain this puddle of magic that had spilled into his life so unexpectedly in the form of one vibrant man? “I… his car broke down.”
Rohahen looked around, taking in Geir’s rusted, old truck and the one that he had driven over which was only slightly newer.
“I had it towed. It will be ready on Tuesday.” He explained. That was already more than he’d intended to share. Rohahen wasn’t one of the warriors, and while he knew this would all be reported back, it was only so the People could keep themselves safe. They still didn’t need to know everything.
“And then he’s... staying?” Rohahen looked hopeful.
Geir didn’t know how to answer. Declan was his. He’d even said so. But did words spoken in a moment of passion mean to Declan what they meant to him?
He gave a rough nod of his head.
Rohahen’s face grew serious. “There were strangers on our land yesterday, along the highway and in the woods. They were carrying wolfsbane.”
Geir snorted. Why anyone ever thought that wolfsbane would protect them from shifters had always been a mystery to him. The plant was extremely toxic, but mostly when ingested, and it had such a noxious taste that no one would ever willingly eat it. Even in tainted meat, he assumed, the taste would be too strong to trick anyone. Not to mention that shifters like Rohahen recovered much faster than humans from poisoning.
No, the wolf’s bane wasn’t dangerous by itself. It was dangerous because of what it represented.
So far, however, this sounded troublesome rather than concerning. The People were strong and could take care of matters like this themselves. They were only alerting him as a courtesy.
“Will you come to our aid if the need arises?” Rohahen asked. This, apparently, was the true reason for his visit.
Geir sighed. He’d made a pact with his neighbors generations ago. He had fought alongside them in many battles. And before that, more battles with more allies. But they were never his battles.
He didn’t want to make enemies, though. He just wanted to… be. Or maybe now, to be with Declan.
But it wasn’t likely that the People would call on him. Whatever it was would probably just go away or they could take care of it.
So he nodded. It cost him nothing to nod.
“So could you talk with Kayla, our Sentry, that is, about...” Rohahen trailed off when Declan appeared at Geir’s elbow.
He was somehow balancing three small plates, each with a beautifully arranged biscuit topped with a roasted fig and drizzled with honey. He was still adorably draped in the blanket. “Here,” he held out one plate to Rohahen. “It will make your taste buds dance.”
Rohahen turned an amused look to Geir, who shrugged slightly in response. Yes, Declan always appeared to be this creative and exuberant, he wanted to say. Rohahen carefully accepted the offering, the plate dwarfed by his broad hands. He took a tentative bite and then moaned.
Geir let out an unconscious grunt. He didn’t want anyone else making those sounds around Declan. But Declan only giggled. “Good, right? Fresh figs are just amazing to cook with. Geir, you should have some.”
Geir would have, but he was still holding the box.
“Silly, go set it down and come back out. We’re meeting the neighbors.”
Geir turned and set the box just inside the door. “Thank you,” he finally remembered to say.
“You’re very welcome,” Rohahen replied smoothly. “I could bring another box since you’re staying here. Where are you from, Declan?”