Rose sits down, ale in hand, as she sifts through the various vendor bills she'd accrued during her day. Lack of coin had left her with little choice but to sell off some of her small knickknacks, gathered over the years by Gillis. The most painful one had been the small figurine of a mill, done in bronze, that her husband had given to her on their 10th anniversary. She'd not wanted to, but figured better the figurine get sold and the real mill – her home – be repaired. However, adding up the cost of everything she had ordered made her wince inwardly. Had she really gone through that much coin today?
With a disgusted sound, she sets the pile of papers aside and reaches into her bag for a parchment and charcoal, setting them both neatly on the table in front of her. She was remiss in keeping up with her correspondence, and had decided to take some time before she returned home to write to old neighbors. For awhile she didn't have to worry about Althessia, who was safely at home with Merry.
At the thought of the young woman, Rose shakes her head. Still unsure what had possessed the girl to run off to try and help rescue the girl Immalaine, Rose had listened to Merry's rather wild tale of getting lost in the forest. Rose was both amused by the story and mortified that the child could get herself so easily lost. If she'd not sent that young man out to find her ...
But no, she had sent for him right after she received Merry's letter and, surprisingly enough, he had come. Direct, uncouth and to the point Rath had been, but he'd seemed genuinely concerned with Merry and equally baffled as to why she'd gone of on her own. He'd looked over the map that Rose had made of the group's route to save Immalaine, and then agreed to go find Merry – scoffing at the suggestion of being paid to do so. "If I go lookin' for her, it'll be 'cause I want to, not t' wangle some old biddy's gold off her,” he had said.
What could she say to that? Rose merely shook her head, and instructed Rath where to get the pack of supplies she had put together – not knowing for sure if he'd go or not, but choosing to be prepared – and watched him hurry off without a backwards glance.
Of course, she'd not been entirely sure about her decision to send him but she knew of no one else to turn to – and furthermore no one else that Merry would trust more than this dark-haired man. It was, then, with great relief, that she saw him return with her a night and day later, both of them looking as through they'd been through a fight.
Which is, she thinks as she finishes writing a quick note to her friend Bonnie, exactly what had happened. Or, at least according to Merry it was.
“I spent the night at Adso's camp because it was late. The next morning I offered to help with any chores to pay Mr. Adso for letting me sleep in one of the tents. He told me to ask around to the workers, and I did. This man, Mr. Graham, he asked me if I'd do him a favor and fetch water from a nearby stream. It wasn't far away, he said. It sounded easy enough and I agreed. I didn't know I'd get lost in the forest looking for the damn thing.”
That part, Rose nods and begins her next note, sounds exactly like Merry. Smart girl, but her common sense seemed sorely lacking.
“Just when I thought for sure I was going to get eaten by that wolf, Rath came along and chased him off. I don't know how he found me, said something about a footprint and mud puddles, but I'm so glad he did. We had to spend the night there, cause it was dark and we didn't know our way out. Rath helped me climb a tree and we slept on a big branch.”
Slept in a tree. Rose still couldn't get over the image of Merry sleeping up in a tree. But it was the next part of the story that has her really flabbergasted. Walking trees indeed …
As she folds up the second note – this one to an old friend of her mother's, who was getting on in years – Rose is startled out of her thoughts by Merry's frantic calls for her. “Mrs. Rose!”
Rose looks up at Merry, noting the child's panicked expression. "Child, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be home watching the .."
Merry nods, her eyes wide with fright. "I was - I ... something happened! I put Althessia on the bed to change her, I only turned around for a minute to ... to get a fresh nappy and .. she fell off the bed and hit her head!"
Rose stares, dumbfounded for a moment. "And you left her there?!"
"No! No! I took her to the healer's house cause she wasn't crying or ..." Merry flinches at Rose's mortified expression, before the older woman turns, shoving her papers into her bag, and races towards the doorway.
"Wait! Mrs. Rose! I'm sorry!"
Rose stops and turns to glare at Merry. "It's not me you've to apologize to if that baby dies because of your careless, dumb .. stupidity!" she bites out, before racing out the door.
Merry lets out a little cry of distress, and follows Rose out of the tavern.
As they reach the healer's house, Rose is grateful to hear the loud, persistent cries of Althessia drifting out of an open window. Without so much as a glance towards Merry, whom she'd ignored since they left the Pony and rushed down the road, she goes inside and heads towards the noise.
The healer, a slender young man of no more than twenty summers, turns and stands from a crouching position near an old crib. “Wait, lady you can't simply come barging in ..” His voice tapers off as Rose pushes past him and looks down at Althessia. “How bad is it?” she asks bluntly.
“Well ...” the young man stutters, then clears his throat as he composes himself. “The baby has a nice bump on her head for certain, but it doesn't seem to be cracked. She'll have to be watched for the next day or so, woken up frequently to make sure she does wake up. And a poultice for the pain and swelling will help, though a cold one will be better than a warm one.”
Merry approaches the crib, tear streaks along her cheek. “She'll … she'll be okay then?” Merry asks, her voice raspy.
The young man smiles sympathetically at Merry and nods. “She'll be fine. Babies have a habit of falling and hitting their heads. You did right to get her here quickly.” He breaks off as Rose gives him a look and returns her attention back to Althessia. “Can she come home?” Rose says quietly.
“Of course ma'am, she can go home any time. Only remember to wake her often for the ….”
“Yes, I heard young man,” Rose replies, waving off the rest of his sentence. She fishes out two silver and hands them to him, before picking the baby up in her arms. “And you ...” she says, turning to Merry, “Are going to be in charge of seeing to Althessia tonight. If you think you can handle the job.” Rose lets the threat hang in the air as she turns and heads to the entrance to make her way home.
Merry stands rooted to the floor, her eyes a mixture of guilt and fear. How was she to know that … no. It was her fault. She slowly heads to follow after Rose, not noticing the pitying glance the young healer throws her way, nor his appraising glance at her form, before he turns to toss the coins into a box for safekeeping.
As she descends the steps of the porch, Merry looks up at the sky. "Why do these things always happen to me?" But the sky offers no answers, except for a bug that flies into Merry's cheek. Brushing it away, she heads towards the mill-house and a very angry Rose.
