Outlander Reversed

Two

Just before Dawn the next Morn, Jamie woke with a start at the Sound of the Rooster crowing as the Sun Began to rise. The Sound was one he was all too familiar with, unlike the one he swore he remembered waking to sometime in the middle of the Night. But that didn’t mean he liked it since he’d been sleeping good after a Day filled with so much excitement, which was what resulted in the groan he let out as he pushed himself upright with his good arm.

        It took him a bit longer than he’d have liked, but he finally got what Summer’d called jeans on with just one hand. Closing the fly one-handed was a bit harder since he wasn’t able to use his Dominant hand, but he eventually managed it. Thankfully, the shirt that’d been hanging over the back of the chair with the jeans was easier to manage, even with all its buttons.

        Once he was dressed as well as he could be for the moment, the ginger man let himself outta the room he’d slept in. His first stop after that was the smaller room he’d been led to in order to relieve himself, sans chamber pot the Night previous. Thankfully, he remembered how to use the receptacle in the room so that there wasn’t a bowl of yellowed Water left in his wake–which he was sure’d anger his hostess. He just wasn’t able to wash his good hand in the sunken, Self-draining wash basin like she’d been able to do. Shrugging as he made to leave the room, he supposed that was the least of his worries at the moment.

        Cautiously heading across the hall away from the room he’d slept in, Jamie Wished he’d his dirk and the ability to truly use it once again. The house he found himself in was eerily Silent except for a soft hum and the Breeze blowing outside, but he couldn’t help being on-edge, despite being able to hear everything. Realizing he was completely alone only increased his unease as he crept toward what he realized was a dining room, judging by the obvious dining table in the middle of it and the sideboard under a trio of fairly large windows.

        “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” he gasped, instinctively reaching for the dirk that was normally at his waist as the sudden Sound of boots stomping outside scared the hell outta him.

        “Well, Good Morn,” Summer chuckled as she entered a smaller room separated by a door that he realized was a kitchen moments later. “I wasn’t sure, if I was gonna have to come in there in wake ya up or not.”

        “The Rooster woke me,” the ginger man admitted, realizing she carried two heavy-looking pails on a stick that was braced over her shoulders behind her neck.

        “Don’t even think about it,” she warned him, apparently sensing his Intent as he took a step toward her. “I’m stronger than I look, I do this every Day, and you don’t need to be fuckin’ up your shoulder again before I can take a look at it.”

        “Fuckin’ up?” Jamie queried, looking bewildered as she squatted down to lower the pails–which he realized were full to brimming with milk–to the floor.

        “In other words, aggravating yesterday’s injury before it’s Healed,” the young woman explained.

        Not quite sure how to respond to that, he simply nodded as she rose back to her full height–which had to be every bit of six feet tall.

        “Ya aggravate it too much, and either it’ll take longer to Heal, or it won’t Heal at all,” Summer told him. “And if you’re left-handed like I think ya are, ya don’t want either of those things–especially the latter–happening.”

        “Aye, I’ve always preferred the use of me left hand,” the ginger man said. “But I was forced to learn how to write, among other tasks with me right hand.”

        “Too common an occurrence, even as recently as thirty Years ago,” she murmured, untying the cloth she’d used to bind his arm to his torso. “One of the reasons I’m glad to be ambidextrous, to be honest.”