I jumped at the sound of yet another knock on the door.
"It's open," the hunters called in unison, none of them bothering to greet the latest arrivals.
Grant and I exchanged a nervous glance from opposite sides of the room. Somehow, over the course of the evening, we had become separated as wave upon wave of visitors swarmed over us. So many people now filled the living area I started to worry whether the dwelling could withstand the weight. Wiping my sweaty palms on my pants, I took a deep breath and tried to banish the thought of the tree trunk supporting the house giving way, plunging us twenty meters to our deaths.
"Oh wow; it's crowded in here," a woman exclaimed, squeezing past the others.
"Where are they?" a male voice boomed. "Where are the children?"
"There they areβthere and there. See, they've changed into normal clothes."
The couple split from their two companions, who headed straight for Grant while they made their way to where I stood, crammed virtually shoulder-to-shoulder, surrounded by chattering strangers.
I flinched when, without preamble, the woman began stroking my hair. "Let me take a look at you. Well, aren't you just the prettiest thing?" She took hold of my chin and turned my head to one side and then the other, examining my features. "Bradley, I think she could be our Melinda's girl. Don't you, don't you think she has your father's eyes?"
The big man peered at me for a long moment, his pursed lips cocked to one side. I'd seen this look before, ever since people started streaming into the hunters' home, each of them hoping to recognize something of themselves in Grant or me, each of them reacting in one of three ways.
The first, and most common, was disappointment. Despite his companion's insistence, I knew the man saw in me no resemblance to his kin. It broke my heart to watch the hopeful light leave yet another person's eyes, shoulders slumping when they realized we weren't who they wanted us to be.
The second, and rarest, was quiet restraint. The way their eyes widened when they looked at us, I sensed these individuals saw something familiar in our faces or bearing, but were not certain enough to make a claim. I wondered if they were trying to spare themselves the disappointment of discovering later they were wrong.
The woman pawing me displayed the characteristics of the third groupβthose who claimed we had their father's eyes or their grandmother's chin or any other single feature on which they could pin their hopes. I suspected, though, they knew deep down that we weren't one of their own; they just couldn't bring themselves to admit it.
"I'm sorry, Bev," the man said slowly, shaking his head, "but I don't see it."
"How can you say that?" she protested, her voice shrill and tight. She turned my face sideways. "See that profile? That's Melinda's forehead."
He reached out and touched her arm. "I wanted it to be Cassandra, too. But I think we both know she doesn't look anything liβ"
"Don't touch me!" she shouted, swatting his hand away. Grabbing my shoulders, the woman hunched over and stood so close our noses almost touched. "You see it, don't you?" she asked me, squeezing my shoulders, her hazel eyes filled with desperation.
"I...I don't know," I replied, struggling to maintain eye contact.
"Bev, stop it. Can't you see you're upsetting her?"
"I'm not upsetting her. I could be her grandmother, for crite's sake." She looked at me again, her lips trembling. "How old are you?"
"I'm thirty-one years." My head swam, and I felt hot and cold at the same time.
"The same age as our Cassandra." The woman gave the man a triumphant look. "I could very well be your nana; isn't that right?"
"I...I don't know," I repeated. My chest tightened as the walls of the house closed in on me. "We've, we've met so many people tonight...and they all want to believe we're...someone they've lost."
"Astrid," a voice said from very far away. "Are you alright?"
"I...don't feel so well," I heard myself mumble just before everything went black.
~*~*~
When I opened my eyes I found myself lying in bed. Grant stood over me, placing a wet cloth on my forehead.
"Grant? What's going on?" I asked, looking into his worried eyes.
"You fainted," an unfamiliar voice answered.
My gaze shifted and settled onto a slender woman with dark hair. She approached and placed the back of her hand against my cheek. "My name is Vivian Reynaldo. I'm a doctor. How are you feeling, Astrid?"
"Tired. A little confused."
"That's understandable. When I arrived there was a house full of people here. Grant tells me it was all very overwhelming. I understand people don't...congregate in such close quarters in the city."
I shook my head.
"Would you like a drink of water?" she asked, holding up a ceramic cup.
"Yes, please." The woman lifted the vessel to my lips and I gulped down its contents.
"Can you tell me what happened just before you lost consciousness?"
I nodded, then recounted my interaction with the loud couple.
"It sounds like you had a panic attack."
"I never should've let them separate us," Grant muttered, brow furrowed as he kneaded the back of his neck. "If I had been there with you, it might not have happened."
"Don't blame yourself," I told him. "You were just as overwhelmed as I was."
"She's right," the doctor agreed. "Taran and the others never should have allowed so many people to swoop in on you like that. They...everyone should have been more sensitive to your needs. I've cleared the house and there will be no other visitors tonight. In the meantime, I want the two of you to stay here and get some rest."
"William told us he might want us to speak in front of the council tonight," Grant explained. "I'm willing to go by myself should he call for us, but what about Astrid?"
"I don't want either of you going out. I'll speak to William about what happened. Now, tomorrow morning, I want the two of you to come see me at the clinic, first thing."
~*~*~