Donkeyskin - ON HOLD

Of Comfort

*Of Comfort*

When Elodie slipped out of the trees, her basket stuffed with various plant parts, Juliette trailing behind her with Simon's hand encased firmly in hers, Ninon looked up, startled, and slowly began to smile.

She wiped her earth-covered hands on her apron, and stood, setting aside a pail full of little, stunted potatoes. "Donkeyskin!" she called, and Juliette and Simon faltered, shrinking back. Ninon saw-Elodie wondered if there was anything Ninon wouldn't see, her perception was that strong-and stayed where she was.

"That's Ninon," Elodie told her guests, keeping her voice low. "She and her husband took me in when I had nowhere to go, and they're helping me clean this place up."

"Who's that man?" Simon asked. Elodie looked around startled, but it was only Birch, coming out of the barn to empty a bucket of dirty water. He glanced at the two children, and raised an eyebrow. Elodie raised one of her own in reply. He grinned and returned to his work.

"That is Birch, Ninon's husband," Elodie said, frowning at the unease in the boy's voice. And then she almost laughed, mentally kicking herself. She'd subconsciously avoided seeking refuge at another king's court, because of her father, because of what he'd done to her.

If Simon had been hurt by a man-maybe even his own father-he would doubtless feel similarly about another man, any other man. Elodie knelt and put her arm around his shoulders, pulling Juliette close with her free hand. "Neither Ninon or Birch is going to hurt you," she said, keeping her voice soft and gentle. "Now, why don't you come inside and help me prepare these?"

The two followed her, like ducklings behind their mother, heads bent, eyes on their feet, past Ninon and into the house.

Inside, Ninon had a small fire going in the hearth, taking the chill off the autumn air. She'd left Elodie's saddlebags, untouched, just inside the door.

Elodie scooped them up, relieved. She wasn't entirely sure how she would have explained the gowns, if Ninon had found them. She'd forgotten all about most of what she had packed, until now. "I'm going to put these upstairs."

She scrambled up the ladder, and into the loft, ignoring Juliette's raised eyebrows and crossed arms. The girl was too perceptive for her own good, Elodie thought, and stored away that knowledge, as a reminder to be careful around her.

She tucked the saddlebags under the far bed, the one she'd decided would be hers, and hurried back downstairs.

Juliette had emptied the basket of plants onto the table and was sorting the different cuttings by type. When Elodie clattered downstairs, she paused, a handful of yarrow clutched in trembling hands.

"Oh," she said, rather peevishly. "It's you."

Elodie plucked the yellow flowers from the other girl's hands and set it on the table. "Yes, it's me. Who did you think it was?"

Juliette blushed and looked down, scuffing her foot against the floor. Elodie took Juliette's empty hand and smoothed it out, feeling the other girl tremble beneath her touch. "Never mind. Come, let's get to work. Simon, can you go fill that pot and set it to boil, please?"

Juliette tugged her hand free and set to work tugging the stems off mint leaves with violent abandon. Simon trotted back into the cottage, lugging the full pot, and splashing water all over his shins. At a nod and a grin from Elodie, he hung it back on its hook over the fire.

Soon, the water inside was bubbling and boiling, and Elodie ordered Juliette to pour out a bowl-full and soak the mint leaves, mashing with a mortar and pestle until the mix became a thick paste, and then add the yarrow and the sneezewort. It would make a good poultice for the usual bout of winter colds. Elodie was just sad she hadn't found mustard or ginger. She remembered her Nurse using those to warm her when she was ill.