And he was immense, with a towering frame, bulging arms, and a hefty belly. With those muscles he could have easily broken Declan in half, but instead he gave a friendly smile.
Declan hopped into the cab, practically bouncing with excitement. He’d packed his backpack with his sketchbook and pencils, just in case he had some extra time or saw something he wanted to capture.
Ro looked over his shoulder to back out, then stopped to scrutinize Declan.
It took Declan a moment to realize what he must be looking at. He’d tried to dress formally, since it seemed like this meeting might be important. With only a duffle bag of clothes available, a pair of tight, dark jeans and polo shirt was the best he could do. He couldn’t quite help himself from just a touch of eyeliner, though. And his usual lip gloss. And maybe a hint of blush. He had to look his best, after all.
Ro’s eyes darted around his face. When most men looked Declan over, it was with lust. Or occasionally anger and disgust. But this seemed to be more like awe. Maybe a little bit of a very different sort of longing.
The brawny man opened his mouth and closed it again. Finally, he asked, in a much softer voice than Declan had expected, “Does Geir know you’re wearing that?” Like it was a secret between them.
Declan stifled a laugh. He’d found a baby gay! This was going to be awesome. “Oh, believe me, he knows.” He made it an innuendo.
Ro’s eyes lit up. “I don’t know many men who like to be… pretty.”
“Well, now you do!” Declan touched his arm. He didn’t need to get into gender details right now. “So how about you? Anyone at home to look pretty for?”
Ro started coughing, like he’d just choked on his own spit. Then he rubbed his broad hand over his chest, like it was sore.
“Ohhhh… So there is someone. Yeah? What’s his name? Or her name, I guess?”
Ro didn’t quite pull away, but he definitely shifted his attention to driving. Declan already had a pretty good idea, though.
“Is he hot?”
Ro gave the tiniest nod.
“Of course he is. And does he think you’re pretty?”
Ro gripped the steering wheel harder. God, masculinity was such a bore.
Declan would just have to work on him. He could already envision just the right colors for Ro’s complexion.
“Alright, I won’t bother you anymore now, but don’t think I’m letting this go.” Ro just needed a friend around while he figured himself out.
Ro looked relieved when he switched the topic to the trees that sounded like rivers. They were just so relaxing to listen to. It was definitely his favorite thing about the area. Well, except for Geir.
Ro told him about their cousins, the birch trees, that had been used for hundreds of years to make something like aspirin. Totally cool.
The drive over was surprisingly short, not even five minutes at the slow speeds of country roads. He’d barely gotten the chance to talk before they pulled into a wide gravel parking lot.
He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t quite this. They’d passed a large store which loudly proclaimed the sale of Indian-made goods. Ro had driven behind it and then entered a small, secluded gate without any signage. Beyond that were mostly modern houses with plastic siding along gravel roads.
He’d been expecting rustic log cabins or maybe a high-tech command center. But these were just houses, and cheap ones at that.
Declan still thought it was pretty magical, though. Because… shifters. And potentially friends.
Once they got out of the truck, Ro started walking with a purpose, so Declan just followed him. They found themselves in a rectangular plaza, which seemed to have an array of homes and small businesses around it.
Declan had so, so many questions that he wanted to ask, but Geir had told him repeatedly last night that it wasn’t his place to explain. He was going to try to hold himself back now.
A few children dashed by, and a small cluster of people sat on the grass at the other end. A dog darted across the plaza, bigger than any dog Declan had ever seen with perky ears, a wide tail, and fur of intermingled gray, brown, and white. Declan wondered for a minute if it had an owner before something marvelous occurred to him.
“Ro,” he whispered, though no one else was around, “is that dog actually a person?”
“Well, that’s a coyote.” Ro elbowed him gently in the side. “But yes.”
“Wow,” Declan breathed. “A coyote.” This was really real.
He watched the coyote disappear between a pair of houses and found Ro watching him with amusement.
Ro led him to the largest building. There was no sign at the entrance, but it seemed to serve the purpose of a central office and community center. The first door on the left was a small lending library with reminders posted to sign books out on a clipboard. On the right, double doors opened into a classic school gymnasium with large, circular tables arranged at one end.
Further along on the left was a small office with four desks and three people working intently at computers. Were all of them shifters? Or just some of them?
They kept walking. Stacked along the right wall were industrial sized boxes of shelf-stable food. Yellow cling peaches. 6 x 105 oz. read the closest one. Saltine crackers, 8 x 32 oz. was stacked above it. Declan figured that they must do their cooking communally.
“They come from the government,” Ro tilted his head to indicate the boxes. “Our old Chief wouldn’t accept the subsidies because of what they represented. First the white people took our land so we couldn’t farm and hunt. Then they shoved us on to reservations and sent in shipments of inferior food, like they were giving us some sort of gift. Now most native children grow up with diabetes and heart disease, too poor to have other choices.”
Declan had been thinking so much about shifters that he hadn’t considered any other aspect of their culture. Ro and his people had been controlled and exterminated by greedy white people for hundreds of years, before the shifter thing even became relevant.
“What about the produce you brought us? Are we taking fresh food from you all?” Geir didn’t seem to have much food, either, but he didn’t want to take from anyone who didn’t have enough. Surely the two of them could pay for things together.
“Nah, there’s always plenty in the summer months. And our tribe is better off than a lot of others. We have a successful farm, lots of us have good jobs inside and outside the community, and we’ve always had control of our land. I was the one who convinced Tier, um, the Chief, that is, to let me apply for the food program. I get to choose everything we purchase, as long as we get it from the same three suppliers, and anyone can make requests. I try to keep it on the healthier side,” he shrugged. “But the kids like Oreos.” He tapped a box. “And, let’s be honest, I do, too.”
“Wow. I’m even more impressed with you than before. I can’t imagine managing a whole farm, let alone the rest of the food supply. All I do is art, sometimes, and you’re feeding your community.”
Ro shook his head. “It’s nothing, really. And art is a gift to the community, too. We think of it as a way of telling stories so that future generations will know their culture.”
Declan wanted to argue back, because Ro seriously was pretty cool for managing all of that, and he didn’t seem to realize it. But he was already heading toward the stairs with a gesture to follow.