(120-10-25) A Piece of Me
Details for A Piece of Me
Summary: Eiris' health takes a turn for the worse as her frostbitten toes fester.
Date: Turn of Lihanis (10-25-120)
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Eiris has taken more than a few days to recover, given milk of the poppy means she is more than out of it, sleeping most of the days away as her mother tends to her foot and the Maester checks in on the Flowers from time to time. There is a scare through the second night when she begins to sweat and the reason is found. The wound has festered and now the task is at hand to try to save the rest of her foot and contain the infection. It is thus that in her room there is a growing tension that Hanna is doing her best to dissolve to keep her daughter in even in the strange milky of the poppy haze calm and relaxed. Tinctures and poultices are applied and the Maester decides that a bit more of the flesh must be removed.

No amount of poppy will hide the cries that are likely to come and the Lord is given the word of the turn of events. As the instruments are cleaned, prepared and brought the bandage is undone and the task of cleaning out the spent flesh begins before it an spread. The poppy dulls things but its already painful and Eiris lets out a cry, her leg held down by another assistant so that she does not harm herself.

But in the end, it is over and she is left weak and spent, tinctures applied, fresh bandages to follow and the wound is not sewn shut right away until all is seen to be on the mend. She keeps her other toes thankfully and her foot for the moment. It is then that the door opens and the room is swept through with incense to help clear the smell.

Hanna sits by Eiris, smoothing her hand to that rich red hair and away from the rather pale face that glistens with sweat.

There is one more person inside the room, it is Arana, dressed in clothes befitting a Maester's assistant, spun wool and linen replacing silk and embroidery. Her father is in the other room, stern gaze boring into her as she is being forced to help the maester and come face to foot with what she has caused. It is clear that it's affecting her, it's really sunk in and she several times looks like she might soil the inside of her veil. But the eyes of her father keep her diligent.

One of the later cries is Ormund's breaking point and he comes in and quickly moves to kneel on the other side of the bed from Hanna and takes up that hand of the girl he adores. His voice is unsteady, chocked with emotion so he hums. Hums the song she used to punch through his fever.

"She must rest now and I will remain in the other room for half a day to see if the mixtures are keeping the infection at bay. Otherwise, we will have to consider something more drastic," he says and handing off a few of the soiled clothes, Arana is given the task of running them to the laundress.

Eiris is so out of it, she begins to speak randomly as her fever remains. The infection has not left her body and her hand rests unresponsive in Ormund's, limp and clammy though at times it tenses.

Hanna looks aside at Ormund when he hums that song and she takes up the harmony. It must be where Eiris learned it, "My lord," she begins, looking across at him. "Have a care with her…if you convince her to do what I think you will…it will change her. It will force her to be someone she is not and she will follow you. I can see it. I see the way she looks at you. She would follow you into a fire. Please have care with my daughter," she begs of him softly, her hand smoothing the wet cloth to the burning skin of Eiris' forehead.

Now that her humors have been cleared, there may be hope. The good woman looks across at Ormund, waiting for her beseeching words to be heard. But then Eiris his whispering about Petyr. "Wildling…my wildling," she murmurs, those feverish eyes turning upon him as they open. Its a brief half lucid moment as her other hand lifts to reach across for him and it turns her body. Fingers brush at his cheek before they fall

"Goodwoman." He says calmly and gently to the worry sick woman. "I have nothing but care for your daughter. Everyone changes, we are not the same people we were a month ago. What happened could have ruined us, changed us for the worse. But it didn't. Here we are… filled with such hope and caring. Good people that adore each other. I will never do anything to willfully or knowingly harm her. I swear to you that she is safe with me."

He might have gone on but then his strange nickname is being used and he turns his head and all the worry melts into an adoring smile. "I'm here. I'm here. Wild and free with you. You have a very bad fever darling. If only I had your talents. But you will be fine. You are so strong. Fight this my little Wildling. Don't leave me." His eyes shimmer and he kisses her hand in his. "Dream, rest, find the beast and kill it and then come home to me."

Hanna gives him a nod, but there is still worry in her eyes, that worry watching their interaction and they way he speaks to her. Her head bows and she dips the cloth into the cool water that was once snow. Wringing it out, she extends it to him. "I will go get broth for her, remain will you?" Is this acceptance? Maybe.

Hanna rises to go and that leaves Ormund to watch those glittering hazel eyes that see through him at one second and then focus on him the next. "Where you go…I go," she says to him, her lips dry despite the way her skin shimmers with sweat. "I need your help…." she says, her voice breaking as her throat is dry. "I do not feel strong," she begins and she really isn't. The ravages of the fever and the infection have stolen her and the poppy, though it helps with the pain weakens her. "Stay, Ormund….stay with me. It hurts," she says and her brows lift into worry. How their roles have changed.

Her fingers tighten, though its a meager motion. Her forehead is burning and it will take some time for her to come through or lose the battle. "I am sorry…sorry I could not dance longer with you….I love you.." she breathes out the last, urgent and earnest as her eyes flicker open to hold his gaze.

Ormund takes the rag and nods he is too choked up right now to speak. He dabs it on her forehead. Then remembers something, "Bring Mugwort Tea. Strong!" He doesn't have her talents but that's one thing he remembers. "Your favorite darling. Mugwort tea. I will even make sure they put sugar in it." He lifts his voice again, "Bring sugar!" Then he's back to kissing her hand. He knows she is weak so he lowers his head down and rakes her fingers through his hair for her, "Where you go… I go. I will be right here. With you always."

He scoops her up carefully and holds her in his arms and pets her hair with the towel and just sways and hums, "See, we're dancing. Don't be sad my love. Stay and dance with me. I know it hurts, I know, but it will go away and you can have a dance with Marty. Look, look… He reaches to his jerkin and pulls out a little bouquet that was tucked into one of his slashes. "Marty wants you to have it." He holds the bouquet up to her nose and gives it a little twirl to tickle her nose before he sets it aside so he can hold her and seat-dance with her.

Eiris can barely hear him at times, her smaller frame is burning to the touch and the bed is not much better where she had been nesting when he takes her into his arms. The soft feeling of his hair brings a twitch of her hand and she makes a soft sound.

"I am never sad…around you…", she murmurs, swaying in his arms. The flowers are felt, noted and she smiles, it's not large, not big and she leans heavily against him, her weight full. "You…are a good father," her voice is hushed as her hands brush at his neck, trail down his chest. "I love watching you… with them," she says and then trembles, a shiver running up her spine.

"I love you…." she says it again as if its the most important thing for him to hear. Her eyes close and her hot cheek pressed to his chest, her breath catching and then releases as she goes a little slacker in his arms. She may be sleeping, likely so as her chest is rising slowly. She even makes a sound but her eyes do not open.

Ormund rests her hand in his hair and leaves it there while they sway. He moves to scoop her up into his lap without disturbing her foot as much as possible. "New Mattress and sheets. Thick blankets. Hanna, bring Petyr's blanket." He calls towards the door. He doesn't care if the servants see, he assigned the ones he trusts most in the tower to tend to the Master of the Hunt's chambers. Their loyalty and discretion proved.

Like a baby, he cuddles her and rocks her in his arms. Humming and rocking / dancing. "Did you find the beast, my love?" He whispers while his face rests in her hair over her ear. "Track down the monster. You find that poison inside and you kill it. I will be right there with you, and Petyr, and Dawn. Drive it out, right over a cliff into oblivion. Then you will be well, and we will dance at another feast. All of us, the children, your parents, Hobert, and the cousins, our family, we will dance and dance…"

Everything he demands is brought to him and Hanna stands aside, her worry clear as to how the Lord holds her daughter. She will refresh the water, leave the broth and tea and go. He speaks to an unresponsive young woman in his arms and so lost to her fever is she taht she doesn't respond and her head lolls back.

Hours pass by and she still remains hot to the touch and he will get soft sounds from her on occasion. His name is whispered once or twice and her hand is not long for his hair had fallen. The Maester enters, checking the Flowers food and begins the careful stitching up of the flesh, "It looks to be clear…but we shall watch her," he says. He questions nothing of the situation.

Hours more, well into the early morning hours with dawn starting to show its color in her window. Her fever broken not long ago and she sleeps still. Weak, that much is very clear to him and the Maester comes in again, checking the bandage and the wound as its cleaned, changed and refreshed.

She doesn't wait until into the early afternoon, damp from all her sweating. She still looks pale but color has begun to return to her cheeks that are not born of the heat from her skin. Eyes blink, then close and finally, her eyes begin to open. The pain is very apparent for her, most lost to the hours of sleep anymore.

Ormund has taken over her vanity. He's had the writs and paperwork he was responsible for getting done and soon laid out over the desk area and he's even moved the whole thing so that he's sitting at the head of her bed so he can dab her head and use a cold washcloth to pat at the hot(test) spots. His injured armrests always by her head, his hand on her collarbone to easily monitor her pulse and breathing.

She missed the silliest looking thing that had him laughing and in better spirits. His valet came down and brought him a change of clothes. Shaved him right there at the vanity. So when she does open her eyes she'll spot a rather clean and tidy lord, though he doesn't look like he's slept as he scratches his signature onto differed pieces of parchment.

The fever is broken and so her ability to speak her mind is going to be hampered again. She turns her head on her pillow, her cheek brushing a wealth of her hair as she watches him in a moment of quiet. If the other nobles had not guessed already they might now as other have seen the valet going int and out of the rooms of the Master of the Hunt.

"I liked your beard," she whispers then, a long breath drawn. She is not quite out of the woods yet but she's made it through the worst which the Maester has said is promising. Her smile is brilliant, weak but bright as her hand brushes across her pillow. Her throat feels horse and dry and her foot aches horribly but she does her best not to speak of it.

"I remember you holding me…was that a fever dream?" She asks him.

Ormund is surprised and radiates joy when she truly stirs and wakens enough to be talking to him. "You told m that it was scratching you…" In here fever, but it had to go. "It'll be back."

The paperwork is finalized with a poke of the quill and then it's forgotten about. He moves over to sit with her on the bed. "We were dancing." He scoops up her hand and places a kiss on it and then he bows over to help her rake it through his curls. But then he lowers it away so they can look more proper for the company when he calls. "She's awake! Water, Broth. Mugwort Tea."

"No," Eiris starts to plead with him but the sound is rough due to her throat. Her eyes lift to his and she carefully pushes herself up. It takes her a bit of time and as the door opens she calls, "A moment."

Her hand lifts to his curls, stroking through them and then sliding down to the back of his neck. She looks somewhat determined and she draws herself toward him as much as she tugs his head down to meet her. Her lips are chapped and she shakes for her effort but she will place a kiss to his lips - sweet and soft.

"You hummed for me…" her eyes search him and she slowly lowers back to rest into the myriad of pillows. She does not bid whoever is outside enter, not yet.

Ormund does not put up a fight to the delay. He actually smiles and leans into her touch and enjoys her authoritative command to keep the others from entering. Then she is leaning in and he obliges and returns the kiss as if her lips were silky smooth. "I did. It probably did you more harm than good with the damage done to those beautiful little ears. But I did. Tried my best to recreate your Wildling Magic, may the Seven forgive me. Mugwort Tea, Humming, warm fire, Pete's blanket. My cloak…" He points out all of the elements he tried to re-invoke while tucking her in. He wants her to get the things she needs and so he is the one to call, "Enter."

All of the things and something extra is placed into Ormund's hands that he is grateful for. "A little something I ordered for yesterday." He pulls off the ceramic lid to a little ceramic jar that is shaped like a beehive. Gold is painted on the outside and little jewel bees are on little wires to make it look like they are buzzing about the jar. It's the finest product of lip balm from the Beesburry hives. It costs a fortune, but it is well known for its restorative properties. If blistex was the quality of Lancome. The lord dips his finger into the pot and then leans in to very tenderly rubbing it into her lips.

Because he's just lounging around the private areas he's only in a (still very nice quality) poet shirt and the sleeves have been rolled up, which of course puts the bracelet he had created using her hair on full display. He is not pressed out of his spot this time when Hanna comes rushing in with Asten to fawn over her. Hanna and Ormund have grown to establish a sort of quiet work ethic and good teamwork while caring for her through the fever.

"You did this…all for me," Eiris is reluctant to let him go when he says enter but there is a facade they need to keep. She letshim go, lets her hands fall away so that when the items are brought in she will accept them. The strange container with its balm for her lips. She has a question when suddenly his finger is there, smoothing over her lips.

Her eyes are only for him until her parents come strolling in and broth is brought for her. Hanna gives Ormund a nod and will seek to feed Eiris. It seems her foot will be saved and now its time to regain her strength and learn to walk without those toes to help her balance.

She eats, unassisted at her wish but will keep Ormund seated with her if he will allow. "I wish to speak to you, when I am well, when we may have some time." She looks up at him, her smile softening as Asten and his wife watch the two. "The bird has been sent with the message for the King. We will hope your approval is swift," he says. For by the looks of it, Eiris and Ormund are likely to not wait.

When all of the servants have filed out he shifts on the edge of the bed to be closer to her and to rest his hand on her legs under the layers and layers of blankets. The lip balm that costs as much as her mother makes in a year is set on the nightstand. He watches her eat with a contented smile. Even though she can't feel it through the layers over her, his thumb strokes back and forth.

Her being so sick really did throw out any pretense of decorum when her parents are involved. It actually has perhaps helped a bit. Shown Hanna, at least, that while he very much cares for Eiris, it has very little to do with bedding her and using her little girl like some other nobles might be inclined to do. It is only when there are servants and healers in the room does he put on the visage and even that is thinly worn for them.

"Of course darling." He looks up towards her parents, "I think it's safe to put the horses back. Thank you very much for humoring me in that." Yes he even re-created getting the horses close. He was going a tiny bit mad while she was out and not very responsive.

"You…you brought the horses?" Eiris lowers the spoon with her broth, the bowl half gone already. Her strength is returning bit by bit, but she has yet to truly walk. She may not feel the touch of his hand but she has noticed it, the way it moves. Asten clears his throat. "We can step out, if you both wish to speak now?" Becuase the idea of another of his daughters finding a place in Hightower seems to please him greatly but Hanna gives him a look that says she may not budge.

"I do not remember much," she says as her eyes lowerto the soup in her lap. "It must have been bad for you to decide to act as you did," she remarks thoughtfully. She glances down the bed towards her foot but it remains bandaged so she cannot see how she has changed. She can not see the missing toes.

Her eyes close slowly and she shakes her head, "I would not mind some lucid time with the lord." She finally says to her father. Those hazel eyes part so that she can look at her parents and though her mother hesitates, Asten grasps her hand and pulls her with, leaving the two alone in the Flower's bedchamber.

"Thank you, for staying with me."

The lord's chest vibrates a little and his thin lips are pressed even more thin to suppress the chuckle that adoringly comes at Eiris' parents. He very much stays out of it as much as he can. Once the door is shut and they can overhear the relief and process of removing the horses from the ante-chamber (least he didn't have them in the living room!) he blossoms into a full chuckle.

"I went a bit mad. You had me worried to death. Do not do that to me again." He uses the finger of doom to wag and point at her. "Of course I stayed. Where you go, I go." She might have declined her mothers help, but he's not going to take no for an answer and he gently takes the bowl from her and starts to spoon feed her in her quiet times during their conversation.

"The Maester said that it was actually a good thing the dance floor accident happened." He has extremely punished Arana since the accident because he now knows that it was done on purpose but without thought, to the actual damage it would do Eiris. Hence his judgment that she comes face to face with the consequence of her crimes. She's also missed out on several parties to celebrate the spring coming and eats alone in her room and it it is simple porridge for breakfast, cheese and toast for lunch and roasted chicken with only salt and pepper to season it with some more cheese and bread for dinner with a small bundle of grapes for dessert. Arana is learning what living as close to a smallfolk life would be like so she can have a better appreciation of what they go through, and more what she should be grateful for.

"He says that there must have been a slow rot inside of the bone, that would have been dangerous because it would have secretly spread like an assassin. The break of the bone released it's malice, but only to the localized area. I am sorry, if I hadn't fought to keep them, the poison wouldn't have been there in the first place."

Pride starts to win out when he takes that broth and she reaches her hands out to try to stop him. Her look upon him is one of hope but then she relents, her hands withdrawing. She takes those first few spoonfuls looking somewhat uncertain by this change of roles. "I shall endeavor to try not to worry you ever again," Eiris promises him and looks towards the antechamber, still surprised by the lengths he went to for her.

"My blood was likely poisoned by the bad humor…or s mother would say," she admits thoughtfully. "It is probably still raw, it hurts…it hurts to even look at it," she will take another spoonful of broth. "If I am to sleep again I will need the poppy," because right now it's taking all she is not to cry and the tension across her face his noticeable, the sweat had already started to cross her features.

"You said things to me in your feverish state…that I do not think you realized I said. What did I say to you?" She asks of him, her head turning finally to look away from her bandaged foot to him. Another spoonful is taken and she swallows it down, holding up her hand to forestall anymore.

"A lot of Wildling talk. That you wanted babies of your own. That you… love me." Here comes the spoon again! To give her a little stall time to process those things.

Oh the things she said, the truth have out! The spoon comes up despite her hand and she makes a sound, not wanting it to spill and she quickly swallows. Eiris stares at him, flushing with color as her breath comes a little more rapidly, "I did not," she says, trying to right what has been wronged.

The Flowers turns her head, looking away from him as she stares at her foot. She is quiet then, lost to her thoughts for long, awkward moments before her head turns to look back at him. What a beautiful blush, near to match her hair.

"Forgive me…that was improper of me. To say any of that. I hope that I did not undermine or embarrass you in front of anyone," she says and then she remembers her parents..just moments before. Who seemed okay with the fact Ormund had been seated with her, touched her, remained with her and she bows her head. "The Gods keep me."

To quiet any more self-deprecation from her he leans forward to his her waxy lips. "Hush now. The only thing you need concern yourself with is letting me know the truth from fever…" He is not extremely worried that it was all fever and not really truth unfiltered by it. "The Gods do keep you, new and old. I'll keep you too if you want me to."

They had played so readily at this as Wildlings, had their moments and he had assured her the reason he sought her position was for her own good. Her foot and the poppy had betrayed her heart of hearts and it's obvious as her rich hazel eyes near green in the light meet his. Truth. It was truth and she need not say it with how she looks at him. "Words are made loose…fluid…when thought is not in the way," she says. "When worries are not victorious. I still have them…" She closes her eyes then, head bowing as he remains so close to her. Clean shaven and without that beard she had grown to adore.

Adore. Her hand comes up then, touching his cheek, cupping it gently as her eyes follow the passage of her hand along his face. "You wish to keep me, even with all the backlash that is to certainly come from it. It is one thing to be your savior and celebrated, it will be something else entirely to share something more." She will be ennobled, a neonoble.

Ormund had started to dab her tongue with the milk of the poppy when she seemed to be in great pain in her unconsciousness. So the vial of it is right there on hand and he puts two drops into her broth and then offers it up to her lips. "Never be sorry for speaking the truth. You know it is a virtue that I cherish."

He stretches his lips to the side so that he can kiss at her hands on his cheeks. "A good many people have seen us together, know that I've not left your side, the fools wag their tongues and the clever keep it. Like your injury, we can keep it hidden forever that we love each other, for that is not going away, and let it slowly kill us. Or we can embrace what's happened, let the bad come, persevere and live healthy lives with the bad cut and gone from it."

"Mugwort is not clouding my mind now. I am not going to re-marry for position, allegiances, or any such affair. If I re-marry it's going to be for love, because she is the most magnificent maid in all ways imaginable. Life is going to change she and me again and again. But me want to change with that wonderful woman."

The sweet words he speaks will be muddled by the presence of the poppy and so she hesitates when he offers it to her lips. She must hear him, must know him in that moment without that cloud hanging above her head in this new chamber, in this new life.

Her smile returns, warm, thoughtful as she looks upon him and then she lets her hand seek his wrist so has not disturb what he holds. "You will keep it a secret,"she says…" That you love me."Right? That is what he meant after all his words, "You love me," its a half question as her eyes seek the truth in his. "You, Ormund Hightower, Lord of Oldtown…love me?" She may not remember speaking her own love though she knows it to be true and would never lie to him.

Ormund chuckles and lowers the spoon down, he realizes what she's doing and supports her - for the moment. So the spoon goes into the bowl of broth and the medicine dilutes and will also taste better. "I'm sorry," He was a bit flowery for her state of pain-addled mind. "Let me be concise." He makes sure to have eye contact with her.

"Eiris, I am in love with you. I have no interest in maintaining some pointless secret. I do not care what others think. I love you. I, Lord Ormund Hightower, Lord of Oldtown am in love with you. You are the maid I was talking about. Once more for clarity. I. Love. You."

They both know that she very much understood that little hint towards her person but she needed to be certain, to hear it. Despite this, her chest visibly rises and falls in quick succession in a sudden flurry of emotion. "I see," she says and , eyes looking to his mouth, then to his nose and finally to meet his gaze.

"You…you will not tell anyone else, no matter what they already think or know. I," she hesitates, gripping his wrist further. "You will wait till the King himself proclaims me a Hunt, a Lady of the House," she says and seems rather earnest. "A secret it must remain or at least not verbally confirmed for the people of Oldtown," she entreats him.

"I will not undermine your position," she says to him. "Not until they have one less thing to use against you. They will have plenty, but not this," she says.

Ormund takes a deep breath and that was not exactly the response he was expecting. "I see?" That's it? He smirks and shakes his head and comes in to kiss her again. "Overthinking as always. Alright, I will respect your wishes. But know that I'm a horrible secret keeper. Especially when it comes to you. For the record you couldn't undermine anything, this, what we have is not a sin, or something evil or corrupt. I am not a buggerer of little boys and you are not a scoundrel out to ruin my family and take our gold. We have nothing to be ashamed of. I say let the city celebrate with us." Kiss! "But, I will obey my heart's wishes. I would never do anything to put you in a poor position."

Eiris says nothing of what unfolded the night before with her foot. Distress on that topic will not do. His reaction, however, is noted and she shifts slowly, wincing as she has yet to dull the pain and jostles her foot. She sucks in a quick sharp breath and then shakes her head, "I want them to celebrate…rather I want us to. No one else matters," but then she hesitates, her eyes looking to his, "You would take me…even if my father's petition is turned aside? Is that what you wish?" Because it causes her a great deal of hesitation. Arana is but a girl and her reaction alone is telling and the fact he can not see this worries her.

"I love you,"she finally says, free of the poppy and fever. She does not deny him once a kiss, her thoughts straying to what his insistence could mean for them both. "I want for you, everything, my lord. So tell me then, if we are to make each other happy how must we navigate this?" Her wish is to protect him from scrutiny.

"If the only thing anyone can fault me is falling in love with an amazing maid than I will gladly take it. Whatever you want darling. Truly, You want the moon, it's yours, I might be away a while, but I'll be back with the moon on a string. I will take you, whichever which way you will allow me. We navigate by looking into each other's eyes every day and if the love is still there, we're doing it right."

She does not know how this works, how he speaks so freely or professes things so beautifully and its noticeable with how she looks at him. Struck hard. Eiris' lips part for his sweet words, staring at him as the young woman, made rough by her life is given the world framed in love and promises. She blinks rapidly, trying to hide her giddy smile that starts to curl her lips. Her eyes break from his finally, "Forgive me," she says, staring down then at her ruined foot. "You offer the moon, I do not wish for the moon, a title, a castle…I would wish for my wildling," she tells him.

Free and sweet, their own place away from whispers and eyes. She lifts a hand to pull and tuck at her hair and she winces a little, having stretched her leg out in her situating. "Lead me then,"she finally says, her head turning to look at him with brilliant hue returned in full force. "Be my wildling. Let every day be an adventure. I want that with you, to stand together, more than anything I do. The man who puts others before himself, who has an imagination and sees me for more than Flowers." She is glowing now or is that the sweat from the pain she is dutifully ignoring though the taut tension in her voice may be a give away as well. She will say this all without being drugged.

"Take your medicine, become well and I will show you something. Proof that we are wildlings of a southern variety. We are Oldtowners." He smiles and comes in for one more kiss before he stubbornly feeds her her medicine. "We have time now, time to heal and time to live and love and plan lives."

Especially since the message sent to the king will take some time, a lot of time because the spring they are celebrating becomes known as the Red Spring. Red for the bloodiness of it all, the deaths of two important Valeryon's the marriage of the King's daughter and brother. There is a lot going on in King's landing during this spring and name legitimizing paperwork is low on the priorities. But never in that time will it seem to bother Ormund, waiting for it, waiting for her, she is worth the wait and he'll not falter.

This kiss, this is something else to her and he will find his maid equal to the task. Her hand lifts to brush through the soft curls behind his ear before he pulls back. Eiris eats the rest of the soup as he bids her and it may take a little longer to work but the milk of the poppy, though diluted works its magic and helps ease her back into a painless sleep.

The days continue to slip by and she recovers slowly, but recover she does and no further infection can be found by the Maester. In several weeks time, she is moving about her rooms and then his home at large, taking to the warming air and change of season with contained excitement. Fresh air. The snows are melting slowly but soon, soon she will see the beauty of the green earth once more. Beside Ormund.

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