[15. Your phone rings at 2am. Who is calling you and why?]

Dick’s beat up truck looked out of place in town, covered in mud and rust, sitting on rainwashed streets against neat houses and gardens. Visiting the hospital, though, left Meera dissatisfied with order and control and the truck felt wonderfully rebellious to climb into, even if the driver was as mild-mannered and self-controlled as one could find.

The truck sputtered to life, and she yanked the door open against its rusted protests, slamming it behind her. Dick navigated the twisting roads out of town and back across the moors to the farm cottage.  Dick’s dog met them at the end of the hedgerow, and chased the truck up the rutted drive.

“Firewood before we head in?” 

“Good idea.”

The spring weather was warm while the sun shone, but a cold wind had crept over the ridge and was blowing across the moor, and had brought clouds with it.

Meera watched Dick expertly split a couple logs, every swing adding to the pile at his feet. 

“Let me try?”

Meera swung the splitting maul, wedging it firmly into the top of the log she tried.

“Keep the handle level when it hits. Don’t let it get ahead of you.”

Dick helped yank the log off the end of the maul and reset it on the chopping block.”

Thwack. The log burst in two, and Meera grinned, nearly dropping the heavy tool.

Dick reset it on the block.

“Swing with your hips, not just your arms.”

Meera moved her whole body this time, and the first try was a success. 

Another log, split, split, split. 

“Have you decided what you want to study at university?”

“I thought I had. Math, probably, or chemistry. Not so sure now, though.”

“Why so?”

“Sama.”