She decided to start the coffee herself, toasted some bread topped with jam made from local preserves, and she waited. And waited. For the first time that she could remember; she was there, at home, healthy, and she missed watching the sunrise with her father. He never missed it if he could, their silent morning ritual. She never thought she would miss it so much, but she sat there, at the kitchen table, feeling lost. Were they sick? They wouldn't have gone out of town without telling her. Tentatively, she went to her father's room (her parents still called it the guest room, but they never had guests, and all her father's things were in there) and knocked. Knocked again, for good measure, and then opened the door. She tore the house apart, tried calling both her parent's cells, her mother's work, everything. She even looked in the shed out back. Nothing.
She took some comfort, at least, in knowing it was not an isolated incident. But she was all alone in a big house, and she didn't know what to do. She'd spent much of her time pouring over her father's field guides and her mother's maps of the county. The forest, it seemed, had grown. She wondered just how far out it spanned- but three miles of nothing but woods was a big change. She didn't understand what was going on, and while she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to, something inside of her needed to understand. If she had answers, at least, she could come to terms with it. Make peace in her mind. Maybe there was something for her, out there, among the trees. She hadn't stepped foot past the tree line, not yet. She'd spent a lot of time staring in that general direction, contemplating it, but she never took that last step.
For now, there was the town hall meeting. Honestly, Eppie thought it was a waste of time. She didn't see how it was going to be either productive or helpful. She was fairly sure she knew how it was going to go before she stepped through the doors, but she decided to hold off on judgement until after the meeting.
She stepped through the doors early enough that she could snag a seat up front, where no-one would sit in front of her, so she could be sure to see what was going on. She sat up straight in her seat, eyes focused directly on Diana: tight-lipped, singular eyebrow slightly raised. She was listening intently, waiting, absorbing what information she could. None of the content really came as a surprise, though Eppie did make a mental note to talk to Edward at some point; maybe she could at least get some granola bars. She knew that no strongly worded speech could keep the peace, not when some of the only people left seemed set of causing chaos even with real authority figures around. Eppie sighed and stood; shoulders back, head high, hands clasped neutrally in front of her.
"With all due respect, Diana, It was true, Eppie did respect Di, and Di knew it, "Exactly how are you planning on keeping the peace around here?" The and who asked you to, anyway? Was unspoken, but perhaps implied. It wasn't that Eppie didn't like Diana, or even that she thought the other girl unsuited to the task, she just wasn't the sort to sit back and let somebody else make all the decisions for her, not unchallenged, anyway. Besides, she had to wonder if that had even been thought out.