When the Nightingale Sings

Part 2

For the first time in a very long time, sleep did not find Danny easily. The hammock was comfortable enough, and the fur blanket was keeping him warm. It was the noises you made, shuffling around in his bed. Soft sighs and whimpers, undoubtedly reliving your terror from this morning, twitching in the sheets. Danny found his eyes on you most of the night, closing them to a squint when you sat up a few times, panting for breath and clutching your chest. He'd wait until you settled down again, and watch you until your breathing became even again.

Danny wagered he got only a few hours of sleep, no more than you did, when the sun finally started to rise. The call of the rooster outside his cottage made him realize he couldn't stay in the hammock any longer. Danny gently rolled out of the cloth, landing on the floor with a soft thud. Watching you, he waited for you to wake, however you were finally out, face buried deep into his pillow. He smiled at the slight snore rumbling from you, glad you were getting rest.

He puttered around the cottage, doing his usual morning activities, cleaning the kettle out and putting a new one on the hook, pouring in the grains and milk to make a hearty porridge. As it bubbled and cooked, he cut up two of his last few apples into small chunks and tossed them in with some raisins, trying to sweeten the meal. He found his morning tasks around his home more difficult, trying to keep quiet. Danny would freeze when he clattered his knives onto the table, or the chair scraped against the wood of the floor too much. Even the door hinges squeaking sounded like shrieks from banshees in the quiet.

One of the last times he looked at you, he realized you were still in your day clothes. He had also slept in his day clothes, his usual pajamas of, well, nothing, inappropriate for the present company. However, his usual ensemble did not consist of a boned corset. Going to his hutch, he rifled through it quietly. His sister had left some clothes behind when she married, the outfits not fit for the city life she was moving to. He had kept them, in case of a visit, however no such occasion had arisen. Finding the items he was looking for, he laid them on the table, continuing his chores.

You woke as he was pulling on his hat and coat again, ready to do his morning rounds on the traps. You sat up, wiping your mouth and eyes, blinking as you remembered your surroundings.

"Good morning," Danny greeted you. Replying back, you shifted to the edge of the bed, letting your feet touch the floor as you woke up. "There's porridge on the fire, when you're ready to eat. And there's water in the other, heating up. You're welcome to use it to bathe, the bath is behind that partition there." he nodded behind him, and for the first time, you saw in the daylight a dark, tall partition between the fireplace and small kitchen counter along the far wall. Seeing the hesitancy in your eyes, Danny cleared his throat. "I will be gone for a few hours. I'll be checking my traps. I'm going to try and find your horses as well."

"What if..." you felt silly, suddenly feeling like this stranger was your protector. But he had protected you, from his animal trap, from the cold.

"Lock this door behind me. I will knock like this," he rapped his knuckles on the door frame in a rhythmic fashion. He looked back at you, eyes serious. "And if anything does happen, scream as loud as you can. I will come and find you."

"Thank you," you whispered.

"I found some clothes for you, too." he pointed to the table. "They were my sisters. I figured if you took a bath, you may not want to wear your dirty clothes." you nodded, thanking him again. After an awkward silence, Danny cleared his throat again, and moved to the door.

"Daniel," you called out. He paused, glancing back at you. "Danny, please be careful."

"I will be. I'll return in a few hours." he promised, and with that, was out the door. Moving quickly, you locked the door behind him. The feeling of the iron clanking together made you feel more secure, and you rested your back against the wood. Glancing around the house, you tried to decide what to do: eat or bathe. After a few moments of debate, the bath won out. Taking a handful of rags, you lifted the kettle, almost bowing in half from the weight of the hot water, and side-stepped it to the bathtub, using all your might to lift it to the edge and dump it in.