When Things Are Set Right

Spite

Aeryn kept two feet in the grass as she eased the plank swing back and forth. She hummed to the chubby cheeked baby girl in her arms. This wasn't how she expected motherhood to be, but a fierce, protective love filled her heart to the brim. Daphne's eyes grew heavy. Her little feather. Music floated on the breeze around them, and grew louder.

Or was that real music?

Aeryn opened her eyes from sleep.

A few feet away, Grim shook the dead leaves off his blanket. Was he singing? That would be a new development. She righted herself and the remnants of her dream dissolved. "Good morning."

"Morning."

They stopped a few hours outside Merioake the night before. It took longer than expected to properly break camp at sunup, and Grim was no woodsman. His armor was hot and heavy, and their packs were full of all their belongings, plus the bear skin.

She shook out her possum fur vest, which she'd bunched up to use as a pillow, and slipped it over the sleeveless tunic which had been one of her earliest attempts at homemade hide clothing. Weaver swooped to the ground beside her with a good-morning-I'll-take-a-seed-now rasp. She fished a seed from her breast pocket and tossed it to him, and he caught it before it hit the ground.

"I think I want a horse," Grim said.

"You can't afford a horse," Aeryn said, still groggy, as she crammed some leftovers into her mouth.

"Eventually, though. I want one."

They ate in companionable silence. Aeryn imagined Grim astride his steed in his shiny armor, with a bowl of blueberries in one arm, and she smiled to herself.

Strangely, a pleasant anticipation crept into her body as she considered the day ahead. Normally, reentering Merioake filled her with dread, but she'd never been away from her family for this long. She looked forward to their faces. They expected an answer about the family trade, and she wasn't looking forward to that conversation. In a few short hours, she'd help Grim collect his supplies, then point him northward. After all the effort of helping him recover, she'd send him off on a satisfying note. It felt good.

They finished a quick breakfast, including the remaining berries he overpicked yesterday, while Weaver foraged for insects at their feet. Grim tossed a berry to Weaver who caught it in midair.

"I think you found the way to Weaver's heart," Aeryn said with a smirk. In Weaver's mind, Grim was Big Food-Giver. Sometimes Grim Food-Giver.

As Grim refastened the bear hide to his pack, she dusted off her slouchy pikdeer leggings and ran her fingers through her hair like a comb before tying a quick braid over her shoulder. No time for ivy today.

"We'll stop at my house first. I have a real map somewhere, so you don't have to buy one," she said. "Then we'll go to the tannery, split the money from the bearskin, and I'll take you around to get any other supplies you might need before you set out."

She grinned.

"Sounds good." He gave the ties on his pack one last tug, then slung it over his shoulder along with his axe.

As the trees of Ravenwood thinned into the village, Aeryn's nerves crawled around inside her, clawing at her good mood. They must've been an odd sight, she in her loose-fitting furry clothes, he in his gleaming plate armor with his axe slung over one shoulder. He was enormous compared to the relatively short villagers. His armor alone was probably worth more than the finest dress of the wealthiest elf in town. Aeryn took a certain bitter satisfaction in the eyebrows she raised.