"I don't like the sound of this wind," she said in a softly thoughtful tone, while reaching for the kettle above the fireplace. A thick cloth protected her fingers as she removed it from its hook, while steam whistled through the long spout.
The man sitting at the table nearby turned to peer out the nearest window, arching a rusty eyebrow. "'Tis the way of spring when it comes knocking," he replied, his voice like gravel rumbling inside a bucket. "Winter doesn't like going quietly, so they have to bluster and fluster at each other for a while first." As if in affirmation of his statement, a hard blast of wind struck, rattling the windows.
The young woman shivered, putting her other hand carefully on the cup which was now being filled with hot water. "I know. It just sounds so...unhappy." Another gust buffeted the little cottage, and something clattered against the outside wall. She looked up with wide, startled eyes.
The man glanced from the window to her face. "You want me to go see what that was?"
"No," she said with a faint frown, returning her attention to the cup on the table. "No need for you to go out there."
"I don't mind, Brynleigh," said the man, leaning back in the chair so that the legs creaked beneath his substantial weight. "I'm here to help, remember? For as long as you need me." He pulled the cup near and bent his head, sniffing at the steam that rose from it. "Hmph. Can't say I prefer this over mead or ale."
"Well, it's all you'll get here," she quipped with the lightest hint of a smile. "If you want to walk to the Sizzling Turtle instead and get a proper drink, go right ahead."
"Now why would I want to go and do that, when the company is so fine right here?" he answered, giving her a smile that was difficult to see aside from the shifting bristle of his wild mustache and beard. He took a sip of the tea and immediately clamped his lips together. A moment passed, and then he coughed tightly. "This what they call a good brew in the north?" he wheezed out.
The corners of her mouth drew upwards, creasing the edges of her deep blue eyes, causing them to sparkle faintly in the firelight. Watching him sputter and wipe at his lips, she could not help but laugh softly.
"Aye," he rasped, nodding as he put the cup down again, looking less than enthused for a second taste. "'Tis good to hear you laugh again, lass." He turned his green eyes on her while she prepared another cup for herself. "I was beginning to think I'd heard the last of it."
As she took a seat across from him, her eyes were set carefully on her drink. The bedroom door glared at her from beyond the man's shoulder, and she would not look towards it. "So was I," she said.
