Page 101 of Her Wicker Guardian

Rachel follows my attention. “Janet is going to be furious somebody beat her to it.”

I smile.

Aaron doesn’t. “You sure you want to do this?” he asks me.

“Yes. I want to answer some questions.”

“All right. The second they start pushing forward, we’re done.”

Rachel stands beside me while Aaron walks ahead to speak to the reporters. Her arm is close enough to touch. I remember her thumb on my arm. Again.

I keep my hand at my side.

The reporters see us, and the sound changes. Questions come from everywhere.

“Locke, what are you?”

“Rachel, did you create him?”

“Are there others?”

“Is he dangerous?”

“Who owns him?”

That one makes everything else disappear for a moment.

Rachel says nothing. Neither do I.

More questions follow about the axe, whether I eat or sleep, and whether I was built or born. Someone asks whether I can reproduce.

I understand the question. What I don’t understand is why a stranger believes the answer belongs to him.

Then a woman farther back says my name. Not louder than everyone else. Just once. “Locke.”

I find her among the cameras. Her dark hair is pulled back, and the microphone in her hand hangs at her side instead of reaching toward me.

When she has my attention, she asks, “Do you want to answer questions?”

The other voices begin to fade. I look at Rachel. She is looking at me, not at the reporter.

“Yes,” I say. “Some.”

The woman nods. “I’m Mara Keene. May I ask you one?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want people to understand?”

I expected another question about what I am. I know my answer.

“That I can answer for myself.”

Mara is quiet for a moment. Then she nods.

Another reporter calls, “Then tell us what you are.”

“You asked the wrong question.”