(It's) Always There
Copyright© 2026 by Daniel Tors
Chapter 19
Ducks accrued as witnesses to her predicament, beady dots awaiting by the front or just waddling in at the back, Navy’s somewhat vaguely feeding or snack-giving pose alerting further distant quacks and pitter-patters. Much greater in volume were the two she kept apart; persistent, angry squawking, posturing, and flapping was a good way to tell they were still miffed – and a test of her balance. Updrafted feather-water and dirt sprinkled her eyes, a bill nibbled her standing leg, and three pairs of little webbed feet ambled on her hunched back.
... Now how to get ... out.
Mallory hadn’t come back, nor was it certain when she would. Alright ... Uh ... The seed pouch is too high for them, so that’s not an issue (yet). The troublemakers can’t be allowed to fight, her sling can’t come off, she can’t stand on no legs, if she goes down then they’ll swarm, if she goes up the ducks on her might fall and get hurt, if she does nothing then her willpower gives out and they ... also swarm.
Hm.
... Tick-tock. Her ankle started to ache from the fall-preventing wobbles. How did...
One... precise ... hop backward, and there was the pool. Tilt, slowly, up so they get the message and ... Scoot – get off. Tip tip tip, then ... jolt a little pull her arm out safely push the last one so it splashes (not upside down; fingers crossed) in the water then no nope no ... pecking. Now ... still in a pickle, so she’ll ... get the crowd away by doing that thing. The thing. The noise she’s supposed to make.
“ ... Ehp!” she shouted at the birds.
Even the bickering ones perked at attention.
Bag untied, hand in, seeds, fwoosh, food over there. Every bird except the problem ones tracked her motion to the pouch then the spray of what she threw, quacks and chitters stampeding away ... Well it took a second because they had to waddle.
The drakes remained, wings spread and waiting for the other to strike first. Like she was taught, Navy scooped away the smaller male and set him in the pool, the bigger one calming, tucking his wings in ... then running away to eat. Hurray. Just a little turf dispute ... and no the duck from earlier wasn’t upside down. Excellent.
If they’d be over there getting second breakfast for a minute, then that seemed an opportunity to give the woods a pass through. The duckling biting her pants followed as usual, tiger ensuring none of the flock were getting hissy or mean as she went to her other assigned task, everyone well-behaved until she got there. Before any searching could be done, the very duck she was after went tripping and scrambling to the others, apparently having just realized the commotion. Where she put her nest wasn’t clear, but Navy would have a start.
Not by this trunk ... not by that one ... not in between the rocks ... Place wasn’t too crowded, so it couldn’t be far–
“Oh, is that...?”
[CRch]
...
Her sole uncovered yellow slime and shattered pieces of eggshell in the center of twigs – which she’d snapped and ground to bits. Dumb cunt motherfuck-ing idiot ... It wasn’t hard to see for her, was it? With her eyes? ‘Cause it was right ... there. The tiger vibrated, staring, and her palm would cut on tree bark before she stopped leaning on it.
... Quickly she knelt and got the duckling a safe distance. “Don’t eat that, dummy.”
Stip would need to rebuild her nest from scratch and lay there because, sadly, hers had been crushed and couldn’t be washed out, so no relocation. Navy took it and the yolky ground, crossed the field, then fucking binned it. Retard. Whatever. Her shoe needed cleaning so ... after a sigh, the ducks’ good behavior was checked and she had a seat with them in view, boot off and ready to be scrubbed.
Hm; some water and a brush made it really easy to get egg off, but for an unknown reason it seemed its handle was going to snap. What a mystery! Why could that be? Hmmmm, darn. Better think about that, yeah? Scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub ... scrub and scrub, scrub...
...
From around the coop’s side, Mallory shouted, “NAAAAVY?” to locate her.
Haha. Hehe. “Over here.”
“Ah,” the bulldog’s face lit like a bulb. “Hi! Watcha doin’?”
“I found Stip’s egg – under my boot.”
She dimmed, looking at Navy with an expression all sorry. “Oh ... Well that’s fine. Stuff gets cracked sometimes and you’re new. We’ve all done it so it’s not a big deal, or anything. Stip won’t mind either; she’ll lay again and that’ll be that.”
“ ... I guess so.”
Mallory stood by ... Nothing of much interest going on.
“They give you any trouble? Thought I heard ‘em quacking.”
“I fixed it.”
...
Navy’s shoe slid on and she retied its laces. Once on her feet again, Mallory invited, “If you’re ready, I put breakfast inside. If you want. We’ll listen for the ducks and ... have a chat? I don’t have a lot else for you to do than keep ‘n eye on them.” A correction came instant, “Not because there’s actually a lot to do and I think you can’t, it’s that...” Her words went unfound, a repeatedly waving arm not plucking sound from nowhere. Eventually, she grabbed them. “It, uh ... There is stuff to do, but there wasn’t too much for three of us and now there’s you, so ... you’re helping but things are kind of ... thin, between us. Get what I mean?”
There wasn’t any offense taken, if that was Mallory’s worry. She shrugged, then accepted, “Sure. I’m kinda hungry.”
“Great!” Perceiving the duckling for the first time, Mallory greeted and goodbyed, “Hi Duffle! Bye Duffle!” while on a swivel towards the pen gate. Their follower quacked as they made her stay behind, though waddled off elsewhere for until someone returned. Inside the tool shed, Mallory set the chairs around a table such that sunlight wouldn’t blind either of them, hearty bowls largely of cooked vegetables – warm, still – waiting in the narrow place’s center. Seeming to think it would be rude otherwise, Mallory let Navy take the first bite before tucking in.
The morning meal was ... delicious: mushy, hot, potato-y, and it had been served to her. After only a chunk was eaten, Navy considered the face she’d been wearing, and eased it for her work-partner; it was friendly of her to bring all their food each day, and Navy had given back to that by being sour ... Why wasn’t Mallory eating? A piece of veg hung off her cutlery, the dog repetitiously tapping it on the rest of her food.
Eyes down, Mallory noted, “I’ve been bringing stuff like this, but I never asked what you wanted. We dry a lot of crops as reserve so if you want that then I can bring it. There’s lots of kinds from different seasons and harvests, and we do it different ways, too. I can explain what there is and don’t worry about what it costs – people really want some more ‘n others – because I can get it no issue. Or we can stay here if you don’t want dried food.” She coughed into her elbow “So just let me know.”
Navy did not respond. The Conley got nervous – had been nervous.
... Back straightened, a moment was taken to bolster herself, then speak in mustered confidence, “Mom and dad told me to leave you alone with the ducks then watch you after I got breakfast. I didn’t tell you that, but I did it, so I want to very seriously apologize to you for ... for that.” What she rehearsed went on, “I shouldn’t have lied, and them telling me to isn’t an excuse. I’m very sorry; I don’t like lying, and I hope you can forgive me so we can keep working together.”
She added, “I saw what happened and you did a good job with them, by the way.”
Then another, “And...” beaten down, almost formal demeanor plunging from her.
Atonement, or Mallory’s attempt at it, was over. Holding constance and composure aloft, Mallory had put their conversation’s weight on Navy and her reaction. The tiger was on her third day knowing this person, much of that time spent alone with her or with one or two farmhands. She talked, and smiled, and explained things in detail to whatever extent requested. And she lied. They’d worked together amicably, conversed idly just fine ... but the girl she didn’t know lied. And apologized.
... Navy couldn’t stop herself replying, “ ... Even if it was y-your idea, I still wouldn’t be mad about it. Keeping an eye on new people just ... makes sense.” the tiger gave a faux half-smile, acting prideful when she added, “Thanks for the compliment, it was, uh, real good work from me.”
With a successful lightening of her, and the, mood, Mallory let out a cramped but real sigh of calmed tension, recognizing what Navy said with a close-to-gleeful look before moving on, “Yeah, they can be a handful. That can ... Okay, what happened t’ you was ridiculous, honestly. I’m not sure how you got through it without tumbling and a bunch of peck-marks.” Unlike her confessing voice, that temperament let Mallory’s Southern escape a bit more.
Oh; kind of on that note, Navy was curious about the demographics in...
Leave it alone. Let “this” simmer down and end. Let Mallory eat in peace, and Navy should do the same.
After the last of her meal was done, Mallory divulged out of nowhere, “I’ve helped lots of different ways and had ... apprenticeship sort of things for mostly everyone who could stand a ten-year-old or a tweeny poking them with questions over and over all day. Uh, this – with the animals – was actually one of the last ones they let me do ‘cause there’s lots of lifting and moving and metal, then the animals are a handful ... and not very clean. These guys are joys to be around, but they were right about that last part.”
There was no follow-up. Navy was supposed to take the chit-chat and reply – on topic, ideally. “ ... Sure I, uh, like them fine enough.”
...
Silence. Yay.
Or better yet, “So what’d you ... do? I mean, there couldn’t have always been someone that wanted a little kid around.”
“Nope! Well, kind of ‘nope’. My parents did whatever needed doing so I went along and learned stuff, and whoever it was couldn’t complain ‘cause we were more help than harm. If I couldn’t go with them then I’d stick with someone else, or I was in school, or I was working alone if it came to that. But everyone’s nice around me so I had plenty to do.” The bulldog’s mannerisms stuttered, losing focus as the naturalness of her disposition petered, revved a second later. “Eh ... School classes were only me, Ledger, Ms. Tiller, and any babies we had to look after. Past that she gave me reading and tests and I was just kind of ... there, off to the side while she taught the pre-school and kindergarten kids. Now I’m out! No more school. Ms. Tiller did a good job though, considerin’. You met her.”
Since it sounded like they used pre-k through twelfth grade, that’d mean Ledger was... “How old is Ledger, then?”
“Twenty-nine. We took classes that were kind of similar because he’s dumb.” She mimicked with her fingers an annoying idiot flapping their gums, saying in an equally dense voice, “‘Oh, but actually I graduated before you–’ Yeah whatever. I’m still smarter.”
Amusement found its way into Navy’s tone. “Isn’t he like ... a psychologist? Psychiatrist?”
“Heard that one! He is in training. It’s different, and every time we play board games I remind him of who got better grades. And don’t play cards with him; he’s a cheater. So’s Mr. Lyle. They work together – that’s how they do it.”
“Ever caught them?” she doubted.
...”No. Ledger’s head don’t work good enough to win that often, and what else is Mr. Lyle staying up all night out here ... doing...”
... With a cough, Mallory put them in another direction. “I, uh ... Never mind. He lives with the animals to keep them safe ... I shouldn’t have joked about that.” Under a couple seconds later, Mallory reached for Navy’s bowl, wondering, “Done?”
Odd as it was, she nodded, allowing their dishes to be taken out front to the pump well, rinsed and scrubbed by bare hands fast enough that figuring what any of that meant could barely start, Navy left awkwardly in-between decided responses. And she returned. So fuck it. Pick a lane. Say anything.
“An–”
“Why don’t–” Navy had cut her off. “M-my bad. You go.”
Mallory shrugged neutrally. “Okay. I was gonna elaborate on what I said because it came off weird, I think. It’s not a secret that Mr. Lyle stays here overnight, and it’s not a that I have any special information on him, or that he’s emotionally sensitive ... or however you ... might maybe have thought. Maybe. I don’t know; I’m just saying I made more of a deal out of it than I should have.” Navy had none of those thoughts, but was also unsure what she had thought. Regardless, the bulldog moved on, “What were you about to say?”
Why not. This was strange and she didn’t know what else to do ... suggesting, possibly, it was a bad idea or at least should be thought about more. “Nothing. Wasn’t relevant.”
“So? I made a mess of this already; can only go up.” Leaned forward, fist on her chin, there was an appearance of genuine interest.
...”Why don’t the ducks fly away? I mean ... that’s what wings are for.”