Life moved along with time, and we found our way in a new world, using remnants of the old to find a way to build our futures.
The island, which Bailey happily insisted was called Bald Rock for the huge boulder that made up the southern end, was becoming crowded, and we worked hard to make it safe, but when Joseph, Luis, and I would talk around our campfire at nights, Joe would often say that he'd like to move his family to the next island over, a high-set modest acre where we could build a footbridge to cover the gap of the narrow channel in between. I didn't adore the idea, there was safety in numbers, and a lot of work in a second homestead, but space was getting tight and the extra land would be a huge help.
The first winter was brutal, The lake iced over completely and we'd seen packs of Redeyes trying the ice, even getting to the barricades and traps we'd set up on a few occasions. We'd been lucky, though, chasing them off as smaller groups than they arrived.
My first daughter, June, was born on a cold February morning after Danni went through a long labour, June screamed her tiny lungs out, raging at the cold. Danni was a champion through it, holding June tight to her breast and I became a father, holding them both. I told Danni I was proud of her and loved her, and thanked her for making me a dad.
Two months later as spring began, it was Allie's turn, holding my hands as she pushed. Wendy and Danni worked on her, my second baby girl coughing a rusty cry as she entered the world. Little Sofiya joined the family, blinking and yowling at the brightness of the world as Allie, sweaty and exhausted, pulled me to her, Sofiya clutched in my arms, so she could look over our baby with her discerning hazel gaze.
Only three weeks later it was Wendy's turn, and she and Luis welcomed Kassidy, a cutie and handful from the moment she escaped her mom. Little Kassidy was a pistol and a flirt, making me remember her aunt, my first love, clutching to her mom and making eyes at every boy she laid eyes on.
On top of the infants, I found myself with a small army of near-teenagers who needed to learn to survive, and a growing group of mouths to feed. Fishing and hunting skills had to be learned, but thankfully, both Bailey and Caleb took to it. Joseph too, his experience helping me improve his skills quickly, and his skills as a teacher doing wonders to keep the kids focused and practicing. Katy, it turned out, was hellishly good at fishing, and despite Allie hating it, a pretty decent shot. Isis, youngest of the four pre-Freddie kids was slowly starting to get the hang of fishing, but a ways out from handling a rifle. I assured Joseph she was doing pretty well.
We'd hustled hard to assemble enough supplies for that first winter, forging bonds in the group, Aria made herself a member, but Alanna never seemed to. Quinn, on the other hand, became the worlds greatest baby-sitter, hanging around with the older kids as Allie, Danni, and Wendy juggled infants, and Luis, Joseph, Aria, and I tried to keep up with the chores.
That first year, as we passed the anniversary of the plague and everything that happened to us all after in a blur, babies had showered upon us, except for Aria. "She says she'll have one when my kids accept her," Joseph complained over the fire one night, both Luis and I zombified new fathers who nodded along with him. "It's that weird nettle tea she brews, I'm telling you, we fuck and fuck and nothing."
"Shit, at least you're getting laid. Wendy is scared of Irish twins, won't let me near her," Luis grumbled as I nodded along. My bed wasn't cold, but both Allie and Danni had expressed similar fears, and both were getting grouchy, snapping at me and each other. It always was better after sex, but the longer we waited to avoid their ovulation, the worse it got.
The next night, trying to help Allie and Danni with our infant daughters while Bailey and Katy dawdled going to bed, I noticed Aria drinking tea. She left the mug in the sink and I sniffed it, all flowers, but something else beneath it.
"Cripes that smells weird," I'd wrinkled my nose at it as I tickled June's little belly.
"What does," Danni asked, bouncing Soifya her hip while Allie hustling the older kids to bed. I accepted Sofiya from Danni, and June immediately started playing monkey faces with her half-sister as she sniffed at the tea. I saw something dawn in her eyes, she glanced at me, putting the mug down quickly. "Gross," she mumbled, zipping away.
That night I'd found my wives whispering excitedly in our bedroom, and then with Wendy while the kids played in the snow the next morning and they did their yoga routines, and then Aria that afternoon when they shooed me and the other men and kids out to work on shooting and building things.
That'd been the moment Aria really got into their group, when she told them what was in the tea. They'd all drink a mug a day for a couple of weeks every month. Days later, well taken care of and happier for it, Luis and I told Joe to be thankful for the tea and to never say a goddamn word about it to the girls.
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The babies were all past their first birthdays soon enough, and we had survived another winter and spring thaw. Danni set to work getting gardens planted, confident we wouldn't have another frost despite all of our fears for our limited supply of seeds. Luis had developed a solid greenhouse system, she'd assured me, and he and I busily set it up to protect the newly planted seeds as fast as we could.
The second winter was easier; We knew what to expect, what to store, what to prepare and how to preserve it, and luckily, it wasn't quite as cold.
