Summer was just beyond the trees. Or, at least that's how it felt that afternoon. The air had a peculiar heaviness to it that did not seem like spring anymore at all. No more was the sky a vivid periwinkle; now the horizon was washed with a pale sort of grey mixed in with the blue. The shadows of the trees and village houses had lost that beautiful sharpness in favor of a slightly more hazy appearance. A fat, cumbersome bumblebee hovered wobbily over the clover around her feet, its buzz carrying over the humid air.
"Do you think he'll be angry?" The raven-haired woman said aloud. She sat on the bench of a picnic table, the wide arms of the ash tree overhead sheltering her in its shade. "Of course he will be. He's always angry about something. His own life. Our dead parents. His burdensome sister." She drew in a long breath and sighed it out again. "Oh, well. I've relieved him of one thing to be angry about. But he'll find some reason to be angry all the same."
The yard of The Crow's Claw Inn held no other persons. Perhaps she spoke to herself. Perhaps to the trees. Or to the lingering bumblebee that rested on the head of a clover blossom a few feet away, as if listening.
"I tried to write it myself." She laughed sharply. "Of course I couldn't. Pitiful, really. Just a few crooked letters I managed. But at least I tried. I wanted it to be from me.” Her slender fingers fiddled together in her lap, making random patterns on the skirt of her plain, beige dress. At that moment, the recipient of her conversation appeared, in the form of a large, brown rat, creeping out from behind her shoulder. Its whiskered nose twitched in the air several times, then lowered to the table’s surface, seeking leftover crumbs from whatever meal had last been enjoyed there.
“I suppose it had to happen,” she mused on, her voice growing soft and thoughtful as she gazed across the sun-dappled yard to the village of Knotwood below. “Maybe sooner is better than later. Even though I weren’t ready.” Her throat constricted, and she blinked quickly a few times. “I didn’t want it to happen the way it did.” A quiet sniffle followed.
“But everyone’s been so kind.” A hand brushed roughly over her eyes. Her feet shifted through the grass. “Mister Goldnettle. I know the coin must’ve run out by now, but he hasn’t told me to leave. It’ll be up to me, I suppose. It’s not right to trespass on his good will. It’ll be hard, though. Moving to a new place when I’ve only just barely gotten used to this one.”
The bumblebee thrummed its wings and moved to another clover. The rat paused and sat up at the sound of the buzzing insect.
“And Zeyl. He’s been the kindest of all. Almost too kind.” She frowned pensively and chewed at the inside of her cheek for a moment. “I guess “flustered” is the right word to use? The way he makes me feel and behave. He’s like a sweet that you know you should only have a little nibble of, but he makes it so easy to take more, and then you feel sort of dizzy and odd from too much of it.” The frown melted all at once with a sudden burst of laughter.
“And then Mister Dimheim. He’s kind in a strange sort of way. So formal. He’s so thoughtful, worrying about what sort of treats I would like, offering to look at my leg, worrying that he’d upset Zeyl somehow. But it’s like it’s coming from a man made out of stone. Hrm.” She squirmed a little on the bench, seeking to relieve the dull ache that forever throbbed through her crippled leg. The rat found a stray crumb of some sort and eagerly snatched it up, holding it between its tiny forepaws and nibbling rapidly.
“At least Gustine is all right. I couldn’t complain about my own troubles when we all worried she might be gone forever or dead or…” She interrupted her own thoughts with a rough clearing of her throat.
“I wish I knew why I’ve not seen Hultroth again,” she murmured, her tone dropping nearly to a whisper, as if the chocolate-colored rodent might hear these next words and judge her harshly. She went silent for a time, and her head dropped, inch by inch, until her chin was nearly upon her chest. Her fair, young features tensed and twisted slowly into a grimace of pain. “It’s probably my fault,” she whispered at last. “I were so...upset.” She sucked in a tremulous breath and raised her face slightly. “But he promised! He promised!” Her hands curled into fists and pounded against her thigh with these words. “Promised he’d look after me. Keep me safe. Go where I go…” Her face fell forward again as she began to weep quietly. “But he hasn’t, has he?” She sniffled and swallowed against her spasming throat. “And if he’s a man of his word, then...then it isn’t his fault. S-so it has to be mine.”
The rat turned to regard the gently sobbing woman. His nose twitched. With his morsel of food consumed, he dropped back to all fours and crept over to her, sniffing at her sleeve briefly before boldly climbing onto her shoulder.
Feeling the tiny tugs on her dress, she paused in her crying to turn her head. The sight of the creature balancing on her shoulder, with its quivering nose stretched out towards her tear-stained cheek made her forget for a moment, and she smiled weakly.
“I just miss him, is all,” she murmured.
