Not long after I settled into the hiding spot, someone began pounding on the door, and I shivered as the certainty that I'd probably die here in this crawlspace settled into my stomach, threatening to make what little food I had in my stomach come up.

"I'm a comin'! I'm a comin!" Pop said.

Then, a heartbeat later, I heard the door open and an unseen figure speak in a guttural voice. "Good evening, sir."

"Why hello, gentlemen." Pop replied with false joviality. He sounded so friendly that I half wondered if he'd actually forgotten me hiding here. "I ain't had no soldiers at my door way out here a'fore. What can I do for ya?"

"Sir, we are investigating the crash of a military plane."

"Oh, terrible thing, just terrible."

A shuffle of feet and the sound of metal scraping that made me think the man at the door must be reaching for some kind of weapon.

"You saw the crash?"

"No sir, I didn't, but I heard it." Pop coughed then spit onto the wood of the porch before continuing. "I was a' drivin' home from town when it happened."

"Did you visit the crash site?" Another man spoke this question, his voice rushed and urgent.

"Why, matter a' fact, I did."

"Did you find anything?"

My breath caught as Pop replied. "Well, there wasn't much left." I sighed, relief flooding through me before the old man continued by adding, "But, I'll be honest with ya. I did bring somethin' back. I served in the military myself. Air Force. Vietnam. So, I ain't gonna bullshit ya."

I waited with bated breath as I heard movement in the cabin, booted footsteps creaking on the uneven wood floor as Pop led the two military men into his home. Was the old man going to turn me over, after all? Had he lied to me? I'd like to think he was trustworthy, but normal humans weren't always the best. They sometimes would rat out their own friends for a quick buck or some other gains. Humans were finicky and not bright. That's why my siblings and I were created, to protect them from the monsters.

And themselves.

As I worried that Pop was bringing the men over to me, I tensed, but then I realized that the man was just walking over to his coat hanging on the wall. There was a muffled search through the coat pockets before the man returned to the door, the military figures following him. Once they were standing again at the threshold, Pop continued.

"I took these metal bits. I didn't think no one would miss em'. I thought they'd fit well with my collection of war memorabilia. You all take em' back."

Silence. Wind whistled through he trees, and I shivered as cold air hit me, flowing through some kind of cracks in the floor. Eventually, that silence was broken by the main military figure speaking.

"Thank you for your honesty. We will be collecting these and anything else you may have."

"Oh, I ain't got nothin' else." Pop said, and I smiled to myself at the sincerity in his voice. The old man was an excellent liar. He would've been better about teaching about deception than some of the trainers at Imhullu.

"Would you mind if we checked your cabin, sir? Just to make sure? Protocol and all that."

"Goodness, no! I ain't had no visitors in a long time. Come in and warm yourselves by the fire." I heard the door shut and at least three pairs of boots on the rough hardwood, every footfall making me tense more.

Pop spoke again as the sound of feet spread out, each person searching a different area of the small cabin. "Can I get y'all a cup of coffee?"

"No, sir," said the main man, the one who had interrogated Pop at the door.

"How bout' somethin' a little stronger, then? Whiskey?"

"No. We'd just like to take a look around."

"Go right ahead. I hope my pipe smoke don't bother y'all."

There was nothing I could do to hide myself any better, so all I did was listen from my hiding spot as boots traipsed throughout the small house. When they reached my closet, I bit my lip hard enough that I drew blood. The boots walked, floorboards creaking as the figure shuffled some boxes around, feeling the weight of them. Somehow, by the grace of the gods, they didn't uncover the trapdoor, and when he shut the closet door, I relaxed a little.

I don't know how much time passed until eventually, satisfied by the search, the lead figure spoke to Pop. "Well, sir, I think that's good enough. Here, take one of my cards. If you do find something else, anything else, just leave it alone and call us. No matter what it is."

"Can do." I heard Pop leading the men to the door, "And y'all need me to do anything to help, just let me know. Thank you for your service, gentlemen."

"You as well."

I heard the boots descend the steps of the porch. Then several minutes later, the helicopter took off. It was a good twenty more minutes before I heard someone approach the closet where I hid and move the boxes covering my trapdoor. I breathed a sigh of relief and gagged on the taste of copper blood in my mouth when it was Pop who opened the trapdoor to my hiding spot.

"I think you'd best stay in there for a while, child. I spect' they'll be watchin' me for a time. I don't think they're positive you survived that plane crash, though. Anyone who was in that cockpit was incinerated." He paused and regarded me before continuing, "Sorry. That's a bit morbid, ain't it. I keep forgettin' you're a kiddo."

He left and returned several minutes later with a bundle of blankets. "Here you go. That should keep the chill away. How's your arm?"

I shrugged. "It hurts a bit."

Pop tsked. "Only a bit? Damn, child, what the hell are ya? I'd a' been squalin' when I was your age if it'd a been me."

"I'm a Hunter." I replied as if it were the most normal reply in the world.

"Hunter, huh?" If my odd response confused him, he didn't let it show. "Well, I ain't gonna call ya 30B. That ain't a real name."

He paused, wrinkles deepening as I realized he was contemplated something. "My wife Yuka, God rest her, said names were as important to people as air or water. Names make up who you are."

He stopped and stroked his stubbled face thoughtfully. "Yuka was Inuit. They're a strong people." He then eyed me. "You're a tough kiddo. I spect' you could take down the toughest guy down at Coldfoot Camp."

He tapped the side of his nose, then pointed at me with a knowing smile. "I got it, Thorn."

Before I even had time to speak, he shook his head and looked away, seemingly speaking to himself. "No, no. That ain't right. How about... Meriwa?"

"Meriwa." I said, as if tasting the name. "I like it."

In response to his words and his glowing, optimistic personality, I gave him the first real grin I had given in a very long time. I knew it was tentative, and I still felt unsure about whether I could trust this man. However, when he saw the genuine happiness in my reaction, Pop's expression softened as he smiled back at me.

"It's settled then. You're welcome to stay here as long as you want, Meriwa. My Yuka and I, we always wanted a lil' one. Couldn't have none of our own."

Pop paused, eyes misting with tears. "I think she would've liked you."

I smiled once more at his words because something about this old man was endearing and comforting in a way I'd never experienced before. Somehow, even then, I knew that meeting Pop had changed the course of my life. Although, at my young age, I couldn't fully expect how.