A Bullet Or Two

Chapter 4.2

Alice had welcomed Delilah straight into her home. No questions were asked. No hesitation gleamed in her eyes. A wide smile painted across Alice's face as she held the door open and remained there while she ushered Delilah to the dining room.

The farmhouse was as welcoming as its owners. Pale pink paint, almost like the blush of a cheek in the cold, covered the walls. Cushions and blankets made of patchwork fabrics draped on the seats in the small living room and drifted onto the chairs in the dining room, where Delilah found herself currently sitting.

"Can I interest you in tea, Baroness?" 

The bouncing blonde filled a pot with water from a bucket in the corner of the kitchen. A more primitive means of brewing than what Delilah was used to in the city. "I will warn ye, it's a bit old. I bought it from the market way back in Sprin'."

Delilah accepted her offer, merely nodding an acknowledgment about the aged leaves as she found herself watching the woman boil the water in the fireplace. Although Alice held a stunted stature at first glance, she still hunched to stir the pot in the few minutes it took for the water to warm. The pot sat a couple of feet above the floor, heating above the wood fire, encased inside a perimeter of stone blocks. And atop the fireplace, where a row of stones jutted out from the wall, was a small framed painting of Peter, Alice, and a little girl; accompanied by a single white flower beside it. 

"Ah, I see you've noticed my Alemone," Alice perked up from the fire and grabbed the flower, "my Kady picked it for me. A gift before she left for Mabbot."

"It's a beautiful flower." Five petals as white as the snow glistening from the nearby mountains curved in around a bundle of yellow pistils. The thin stem rolled between Alice's fingers. "I presume Kady is your daughter?" Delilah did not want to assume but Alice's countenance still owned a glow too spirited for that of a grandmother. 

"Oh yes, yes. Kady is my only one. I wish you could've met her. She's a wild one, my girl. There's protests down in Mabbot, about the railroad bein' built. I told her I wanted her nowhere near those riots but it's hard to stop a young woman in her prime." Pops emanated from the pot and Alice grabbed it as she spoke. "His excellency, Baron Franklyn, must feel the same with you. If you don't mind me saying. Young women have a power that can't be stifled when they have their heads on straight."

Delilah perked up at the mention of protests. In less than two weeks, she found herself learning more and more about her Quarter than Baron had ever let her before. She wanted to ask further about it, however, Alice had already continued her ramblings. Moving onto her daughter's achievements, then the help that Kady provided to the farm, and finally the attacks on the herd. 

"It's quite a horror what's happ'ning to our livestock. I didn't think it'd happen this soon. I'm glad Kady is away. Normally the Wigs don't come 'til mid-Winter. By then the sheep are down south. My father takes them in." Alice placed a cup on the table as she spoke. Steam rose from the teapot next to it. Both cup and pot were simple – white with swirls of blue wrapped around the brim. "I fear for their safety. Our safety. Those Wigs are vicious beasts."

Oh, how Delilah had heard.

Similar to the Fear Gorta, she grew up hearing the tales. Nightwigs were evil little things that barely reached the knee. They burrowed in the ground and waited until nightfall to feast upon livers. She remembered the stories her governess told her, right before bed.

Any liver will do. Even a little girl who stays awake past midnight's.

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The night arrived sooner than they had prepared for. Delilah stayed in the farmhouse with Alice until Peter and the boys hurried back in. Afraid of getting trapped in the dark with no weapons.

The plan was to eat and then head out. No use would come from three stomachs growling and disturbing the quiet of the fields. They needed to be silent. To be focused.

Pork shins and onion stew filled their bowls. Delilah - used to dining on thicker options like chops or joints - uttered her thanks, hungry enough to consume the odd broth in her bowl. Joining Peter and the rest of the table in blessings, she grasped Douglas and Alice's hands.

Peter thanked Saol for the life she gifted and the life she protected. A blessing one could not forget unless they wished to receive bad tidings.

"Dear, dear Goddess of Life. In her womb all's born. In her gaze, all can breathe." Delilah felt Douglas' hand shake against her own. It became clammier as the blessing went on. His nerves evidently manifested as Peter continued.

Peter thanked Bas for the lives he took and the deaths he postponed.

"Great God of Death. In his lantern light, he guides us. In the dark, he claims us." Fingers crushed around her own. Delilah held in a gasp at the pressure. A droplet fell from Douglas' hairline, down along the edge of his cyan eye, and to his trembling lips. "May lives prosper. May death be overcome." Each of their voices merged together and broke apart.

A silence ensued for a moment in which Delilah could only squeeze her companion's hand back. One minuscule gesture she hoped would reassure him.

Peter picked up his fork, beckoning them to eat.