Soul Bound

Chapter 25

She cut him with a harsh glare. "She's da only one who cen help Petal. An' she's far from a tyrant. She's been blessed by the gods. Maybe if ye treated her with de respect she is owed, she'd help us more."

"Bah!" he exclaimed, dismissing her with a curt wave. "She's a curse. Brings nothing but trouble."

Anna rapped on the door beside the latch hole. Once she had their full attention, she gave them a wry smile. "Hi. Remember us? Night is falling; are you going to let us in or not?"

Stirward remained silent, clearly still wary of us. Huffing at his behaviour, the young woman shoved him out of the way and unlocked the gate. Stirward gaped at her flippant disregard for his authority then threw his hands up in his irritation when gate swung open for us.

She smiled warmly at us. "Come, come. Ignore the crotchety brute. You can stay in my home for the night." She took our arms and led us down the dirt road.

"Abi!" Stirward called, struggling to keep with our pace. "Abigail! You cannot just invite strangers into your home!" He finally caught up to us and pulled her to a stop. Wincing, he gripped his thigh and muttered a curse; it was then when I noticed the peg he had instead of the bottom half of his leg. It was a miracle he caught up to us in the first place with his crude prosthetic. "If you insist that they stay here, let them stay in my home."

She scowled furiously at him. "No, no. You've made yer opinion of me guests clear. They'll be stayin' wit' me."

Abigail turned down the street, ignoring the rest of Stiward's protests. We followed her. Her fellow villagers stepped out of their homes to watch us, some with only curiosity in mind, but others looked one shake away from turning their weapons on us. Coming from a small village, I understood their wariness, especially with two armed strangers. Brar wouldn't have welcomed us either.

The buildings here--though, I used that word loosely--were framed by large logs, the walls made of bundles of sticks woven together.  The roofs consisted of broad palm leaves, which I doubted did much against the torrential rain during the spring time, but it did its part to protect them from the mist that seemed to persistently hang in the air.

Abigail took us to a small hut nestled in the corner of the street. "Please, come in. I made enough food knowin' you'd be comin'."

Her home was even smaller inside. It was all one room, a flimsy divider wall off in the far corner, where I saw a hint of a cot and a pair of small feet behind it. One side had a large pit, which hosted a grill and a pot full of stew. Two cushions sat beside the fire, soaking up the warmth.

Patting her rumpled skirts, Abigail peered at the divider nervously then down at the stew. Absentmindedly, she gestured to the cushions by the fire. "Sit, sit. Dinner ought to be ready soon." Her eyes didn't once leave the divider.

My heart went out to the woman, torn between hosting and tending to her daughter. It reminded me of a time when I was little and Jacob had gotten a nasty fever. Mom had stretched herself thin tending to him, watching me, and keeping the house in order. I had been six at the time, but even then, I saw she was reaching her limit. Abigail shared the same weary lines my mother had, but she looked to be ten years younger than Mom had been. 

I walked over to the pit and picked up the spoon. "Go check on Petal. I can take care of dinner from here."

She just stared at me, eyes uncertain. "No, miss, it's all right. I'm-"

I touched her hand, stopping her. "We're here to help. Let us help."

Her eyes went from me to Anna, who smiled encouragingly at her. "Go on. Eva's right: we're here to help."