The Tale Teller

Ch 8

 A cold shiver ran through Vaun as he locked eyes with the milkmaid. She had introduced herself as Willa, in an unusually high tone, with a slight underlying rasp. The Adam's apple that bobbed at her throat confirmed Vaun's suspicions on what the farmer had meant by the surprise beneath her skirts.

He didn't say anything, not whilst she helped him over to a pile of straw to sit upon, or as he watched her now, cleaning up his vomit in the doorway. Her dress and presentation was none of his business.

A bucket had been placed between Vaun's knees should he need to throw up once more, but thankfully, as of yet, he hadn't felt the urge to. His stomach still twisted and jolted how he imaged a churn of milk felt whilst being beat into butter. The cup of water Willa had brought him was helping it to settle though.

"How do you feel?" She cut off their moment of eye-contact to place her soiled rag into a pail of water.

She climbed up from a kneeling position on the cold stone floor, rising to stand with her shoulders square, and hands on her hips. The stance was like that of a firm, yet caring mother. She had done nothing but mother Vaun from the moment they had met.

"Rough." Vaun was in no mood to mince his words. This girl -and she was just that, a girl- had watched him bring up every bite of food within him, he knew she could take the truth. "Cold too." Another shiver sparked up his spine and over his shoulders.

"You should lay down. Keep warm, and get some rest." Vaun shook his head. No matter how sleep deprived he was, how weak and exhausted, he knew he couldn't sleep with a stranger so close.

Since Corum's death, he was afraid to sleep in circumstances like this. As of yet, Willa had been nothing but helpful and kind, but Vaun knew his mind wouldn't rest no matter how many times he reminded himself of that.

She gave a shrug in defeat, before reaching for the pail of water, and turning to the door. She slipped through it and out into the yard, leaving Vaun with no one but the two cows to keep him company.

They stood in front of him, enclosed in their separate stalls. They were divided by rough planks of woods that acted like short walls, creating four bays down the length of the small barn. Both cows were munching on some hay, and Vaun knew if he let it, the sound of their chewing could easily become a lullaby.

His eyes were heavy, sore. Even the single lantern that Willa had lit and left by the door was bright enough to hurt him. His head still ached. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to at least lay down how Willa had suggested, for maybe then he may at least find warmth.

She'd stripped him from his cloak, which had soaked up the most of the rain, and ordered him to peel off his woollen coat and the vest beneath it. Vaun was left in his shirt and breeches, feet bare with the removal of his boots. They had been so wet that he wouldn't have been surprised to see a fish flowing out with the water that poured from them.

He was cold now, but he knew he shouldn't complain. There was a roof above his head, and a pile of comfy straw to relax on, and that was more than enough.

With one last moment of hesitation, Vaun finally laid back on his makeshift bed, feeling the sigh fall from his lips at how good it felt. His head spun a little if he dared open his eyes, but whilst closed, he could imagine that his health was better than it was, and that this was a bed, and not a stack of straw in a cow's barn.

Barely a minute passed before the door reopened, and Willa's soft footsteps tip-tapped across the stone floor. Vaun could hear her pail being set down, before she disappeared back into the yard.

A few more minutes went by before she returned, this time closing the barn door behind her, and dragging her milking stool with her as she crossed the floor to settle close to Vaun.