I bring the thread as close as I can, as though looking at a distance could cause it to distort, but even close, the colors seem to dance.
Melgrim is full of surprises.
As I’m putting the thread in its basket, the door to the hut flies open, and Ramsey enters as though he’s looking to pillage.
His muscles are so tense, his veins pop up along his arms, enhancing the typical hostile expression he’s wearing.
I’m no stranger to fear, and a familiar shiver runs up my spine.
If only things were different, and I was worthy of being cared for like Elena and Meg, or even loved.
But some joys are not meant for me.
He looks around the room, clearly searching for something to complain about.
I’m too exhausted to verbally spar with the big blue brute. I don’t even think I can carry the burden of his presence, let alone raise my voice.
He looks in one of the baskets, shifting the threads more gently than he had before.
“Harold’s gone,” I blurt. “So you don’t have to be mad about him anymore!”
Tears spill down my cheeks, and I look away, not because I know Ramsey will inevitably start yelling, but at the loss of my friend.
Ramsey looks at me, his brow narrowing. I look away.
“Are you crying?” he snarls.
“No!”
“Yes—you are.”
“Fine—I am.”
“What reason would you have to stain your cheeks with dishonor?”
“Because I’m ridiculously weak and it’s amazing I even know how to breathe without help.”
“At least you do not lie.”
Knowing I’m no match for him, I return to my work, hoping he’ll grow bored with insulting me.
But he is not ready for peace.
“Why do you care so much for a rodent?”
I could remain silent and ignore him, but that could further provoke his ire.
But how do I convey my kinship with the small animal?
I finally settle on, “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Probably not, but I have learned to better make sense of nonsensical things since you Penticari have landed on our shores.”
Chuckling, I wipe my tears away. “Did you just tell a joke?”
“No.”
I laugh harder, which makes Ramsey’s expression go from hostile to curious.
