By the time we got home, both Priya and I were much more relaxed. Our conversations hadn’t all been the lightest fare, and Priya’s speech difficulties had made them a little awkward, but they were still a little flicker of heartwarming normality.

It was nice we’d taken the chance to relax when we could, because we literally hadn’t even made it in the door before the kids swarmed us.

“Gavin! Anju! Back up! Let us in first.”

Begrudgingly, the kids gave us space, but rushed forward again the second the door was closed, their voices a cacophony of complaints. I let them babble as I took off my helmet and pushed some sweaty strands of hair back out of my face. I’d been scrubbing off my body, but with all the exercise and no real showers, my hair was a wreck. Showering was out of the question. Cleanse leapt to mind as an option, but it seemed like a frivolous use of energy, and the only person close to me who had Cleanse - George - was understandably upset with me for attacking his wife.

I pushed my way through the crowd of kids to set my helmet down, then focused on the quietest of the milling crowd. Micah had followed the group, but was just chasing Gavin around, trying to slip a tote bag over his tail. My oldest child was ordering his brother to hold still, but wasn’t pestering me at all. “Everyone, quiet! You’ll all get a chance to talk. Micah, you first. What’s the problem here?”

Micah straightened up immediately. “Well, Gavin won’t listen to me. I told him you said he needs to wear his butt bag, but he thinks he doesn’t.”

“No! I only need to wear it if I can’t control it, and I can!”

Anju spoke up. She pointed a finger at Gavin, but addressed her mom. “He knocked my water all over me.”

She was indeed sopping wet. I hoped the water-resistant fabric of her armored vest had protected the paper within, but even if it had, the evidence of the spill was still obvious on the rest of her.

I exchanged a tired look with Priya, who placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Did you talk to your Dad?”

There was a moment of quiet of from the kids, who looked at each other uncomfortably. You could see them remembering that there was, in fact, another adult available. An adult they could have - and should have - consulted.

Anju slunk away from her mom’s touch. “Dad seemed really busy.”

“You should have asked your Dad,” said Priya firmly.

I made a snap decision. “Gavin, I’m sorry, but please wear the tote bag for now. I know I said you didn’t have to if you had control of it, and you still don’t have to while you're out… but now we have not just Cassie but also Arnav in the house. They’re very small and your tail is behind you. It would be easy to hurt them by accident.”

Gavin looked furious to the point of tears.

I dropped down to look into his eyes. “Just for a little bit, okay? I need to talk to Ms. Priya and Mr. George about everything.”

His lip curled rebelliously.

“Please?” I begged. “For me?”

“Fine!” he said. His voice was still upset and angry, but I’d take it for now.

For now, as in just for this moment. I’d learned my lesson from the Touch of Decay Incident. The kids’ emotional stability was something I had to prioritize.

Issue tenuously resolved, the kids dispersed - all except Gavin, who was clinging to my side like the World’s Angriest Barnacle. I was good with that: if he wasn’t around the other kids, he couldn’t fight with them.

I took his hand and led him into the house to look for George - who I found in the kitchen, going through our cupboards. Priya, behind me, gave an exasperated snort. “Did you not hear the kids?”

George lowered the box he was peering at and blinked. “I mean, yeah, of course I heard them. They’ve been yelling a lot.”

“You didn’t check on that?”

“No?” George looked mystified as to why he would. “I’m glad you’re back safely. I’ve been going through our foodstocks trying to total up the calories we have available and make a more accurate estimate of how long…” He glanced at Gavin. “Of exactly how much food we have.”

“How are we doing?” I asked.

He looked irritated at my question - or perhaps just at me - but shrugged. “Hard to say exactly. I’m not done yet. You guys were fast.”

The compliment almost sounded like an accusation. I sighed. “Did you find the dry goods under the tarp in the garage?”

“Yeah. Micah showed me where all the food was. He re-chilled the freezers, too. I’m done with the cold stuff - just working on the dry goods now. It’s weird, most packages contain between 1,400 and 2,500 calories of food. I would have expected more variety. There are outliers, though. A lot of the canned veggies have less. And…” George searched among the food piled around him and hoisted a jar of peanut butter aloft. When he spoke, his voice was reverent. “This jar of peanut butter contains over 6,000 calories!”

Dang. I should’ve bought more peanut butter.

“That’s great!” I said.

“Yeah…” George’s voice was hesitant. “But we need about 15,000 calories each day to feed all nine of us full meals. That’s not accounting for anyone being hungrier due to all the exercise.”

Suddenly, the number “6,000” sounded much smaller.

“Adults eat less?” Priya suggested.

George nodded heavily. “Yeah. Once I’ve added it all up, I’ll calculate out two numbers - one for us eating full rations, one for us on half.”

I swallowed. “I’d been wanting to figure out shields for Priya and I, but it sounds like maybe it’s time for me to see if I can do some hunting. Assisted Strike should be good for that if I can fashion a sling or something.”

“Old style?” asked Priya.

The question caught me short. When I’d thought “sling,” I’d thought of the familiar Y-shaped wooden slingshot with a rubber strap across the top. I’d played with ones like that as a kid, and my boys had been gifted some as well. They’d broken or lost them, so we didn’t have them handy, but I’d thought I could re-make something similar fairly easily.

But… did I want to? The force of a shot from that style of slingshot came from stretched rubber. That put a hard upper limit on how far something like that could shoot. An ancient-style sling, like the one David had used against Goliath in the Bible, could probably go much farther and hit much harder. The downside was that it took a lot of practice to use, to get your missile headed in the right direction, let alone at the right target.

I had, effectively, a cheat for that. Assisted Strike should make using the more skill-based style of sling a breeze for me.

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “I think so. Not exactly sure how to make one of those. Want to lend a hand?”

Priya gave me a thumbs-up, and the two of us spent the next hour or so looking for hints. We’d mostly used series fiction and children’s books to armor ourselves and the Tagon, and we ended up taking apart some portions of the boys’ vests to get a look at the David and Goliath picture book I’d cut up and stuffed inside. We did find it, eventually, and I whispered a prayer of thanks for the illustrator, who’d clearly done her research. I’d been concerned that we'd go through the work to get at the book and find that the sling was only shown from a distance, or had been drawn in as a useless sketchy cartoon. But, in fact, the book had a lovely closeup of David loading a stone in his sling as the menacing behemoth he would fight laughed in the background. The sling’s center was a small patch of leather, shaped like a rounded diamond or an angular oval. The center had slits through it, for some reason. Two braided cords hung off the oval, one looping into a ring around David’s center finger and the other coming to a free-hanging knot.

I wouldn’t have thought of turning one of the sling’s cords into a ring without the drawing, but it made sense. You’d swing the whole thing around in a circle to build up momentum, and then let go of one side to let the rock fly. With the ring, you didn’t have to try to let go of one side and hold on to the other - you just let go, and the rope kept hold of the sling for you.

Braided cords were easy enough. I had a plethora of wool around from a passing interest in crochet when I was expecting Micah. I’d had this vision of turning out adorable little baby hats and blankets, and I’d made a few smaller pieces… but after Micah was born I’d ended up not having time to use up all the supplies I’d bought. So I’d kept the skeins of yarn for nearly a decade, only using them for the occasional kids’ craft project. It was something I’d felt a bit silly about, but it worked in my favor now. I handed the yarn to Priya, who invited Gavin to sit with her. The braiding might have gone slower with his “help,” but maybe not. Priya’s hardened fingertips could pinch the wool easily enough, but there was a certain amount of fumbling and dropped fibers. Gavin was happy to sit in her lap and hand the threads back to her.

While they worked, I tried to think of something I could use for the pouch. I thought something other than leather might work - maybe canvas, or plastic - but I wasn’t sure. It’s not like we had a sling-making manual, just one detailed illustration of the item in question. I'd definitely prefer to use leather, since I knew it could work, but I didn’t own a leather coat. Belts were something we were short on, and even if I got one, belt leather seemed too narrow. In the picture, the diamond/oval shape of the sling’s pouch seemed nearly as wide as David’s palm.

I was actually getting on my boots to make a scavenging run to a nearby house when I thought of the obvious answer - shoes. Vince had taken his nice work shoes on the trip with him, but those were far from the only pair of leather shoes we had around. I dug through his side of the closet and came out with a pair of sneakers he wouldn’t be using anytime soon. The sneaker was leather, and the toe was even already perforated with small holes! I cut away the sole with a razor blade, then cut an appropriately sized section. There were multiple layers of leather on the edges where I planned to punch holes for the cord to go through, but I didn't think that would be an issue.

I carried my prize out to Priya, who held up two tightly-braided cords, one with a large ring tied in the end. Assembling it was the matter of moments, and then it was time to head outside and see if it worked.