She had been living with Bucky for a week, and so far it had been a dream. After that first night he woke early the next morning, ready to work. She still slept as he quietly moved around the small cabin, the sun hadn't peeked yet.
He chose to leave early that morning, knowing he would get back earlier in the day. Knowing he would be able to spend the evening with her.
His heart grew warm as he approached the cabin, smoke coming from the chimney. He walked into the house, eyes widening at the sight. The cabin had been tidied and the soft quilt they once sat on together was draped across the wood framed sofa in the living room.
Now a week later, pieces of her were scattered along the cabin. It was his new favorite thing.
"I think I may run to town tomorrow." She greeted as he walked into the cabin, propping his axe on the door frame. "Could you please leave the axe on the porch?"
"Sorry, I forgot," he said, stepping back onto the porch. "What're you running to town for?"
"I thought I might pick up some fresh produce from the farmers market. You've been working so hard this week, I want to make you a nice dinner!"
"You're too good to me, Doe," he whispered, watching her glide around the kitchen. "Too soft."
"You deserve some soft." She had walked over, stroking his scarred cheek with her thumb. He leaned his face into the warm touch.
"Could I come with you?" He asked.
"Are you sure? I know you don't like going into the village." Her brows furrowed in worry.
"I'll be okay as long as I'm with you," he reassured.
So the next day they got up and got ready to go into town. Her in a soft brown dress, sleeves reaching her wrists and the waist cinched. A black cloak covered her shoulders for warmth. He covered himself in fabric, his face cloaked with a scarf. His absent arm almost disguised completely. She carried an empty picnic basket in hand, and locked her other arm into his.
It was about forty five minutes until they reached the village, another ten to the market. The moment their feet met the cobblestone people stared, whispering about the the strange man that clutched hands with the orphan girl. He clutched her hand so tight his knuckles turned white.
He left her to do the speaking. Too afraid to make eye contact with the vendors. He loved the laugh that fell from her lips as she haggled with the old man selling honey. Just as she took.the jar from the man and placed it in her basket a loud, obnoxious voice called across the market.
"The orphan girl and the monster?! I should've known when I saw her walk into the woods!" Brocks voice cackled. "Of course the monster would be the only who wanted her!"
"Would you just mind your own business?" She snapped at him.
"Does he know you've been ruined?" He snickered as he walked towards the pair. "He must. I don't see a ring. Why buy the cow when you get the milk for free?"
He went to grab her face but was quickly stopped. Buckys hand gripped his wrist, turning it to a painful angle. Brock gasped in pain as he fell to his knees.
"Don't touch her." The market was dead silent, watching the scene in front of them.
"Let him go, Bucky. He isn't worth it." She wrapped her hand on her arm, tugging him away from the man. He looked into her eyes for a moment before finally letting the man go. As they turned to walk away though, Brock reached up and tugged the scarf off of Buckys head.
Loud gasps filled the market as they took in his scars. A smug look covered Brocks face as the crowd reacted. She tugged the scarf from his grip, wrapping it around Buckys head, whispering quiet assurances to him.
