Quote from Adriana on July 23, 2024, 9:11 pm

...... Logan opened the heavy wooden door of the brick home and entered. The wind howled behind her and brought a flurry into the threshold with it, but was quieted as she closed the door. She set her lamp down on a table next to the entryway, and began to remove her snow crusted boots.

Across the room in the corner was a bed wherein her Grandfather laid (for he had given his room up to Logan when she became a young adult). He awoke when she entered, and sat upright. Although his hearing was failing him, he could feel the door open and shut, and being a light sleeper, had always awoken when Logan returned.

Today, something about her appearance was different. He observed her for a moment,

“Logan, what is that you are wearing?” he asked, his eyes narrowed.

Logan removed the soft white shawl from about her shoulders and brought it his bed, setting it down on his lap for him to look at. She went back to removing her outerwear.

“It is a betrothal gift.” she answered evenly, but spoke loudly enough for him to hear her.

“A betrothal gift? From Liam? It is very well made...” he asked and observed in astonishment, blinking his saggy eyelids. His hands wandered over the soft white reindeer fur and the embellishments in black and blue thread along the woven hem.

Nodding once, Logan moved to the fireplace. She opened a hatch in the floor near it, and withdrew three dry logs to stoke it with, stirring the ashes and bringing to life the embers that had begun to rest.

“What did you say to him?” he asked.

“That he must give me two sons before I am thirty, or I will trade him for his cousin.” Logan responded.

To this, Vincent laughed heartily. “That is wonderful! Perhaps things do not always work as we would like! Still, my heart is happy. Is there anything sweet in the cupboard to celebrate with? We must make a cake.” he said, and began to stand. Logan came to his bedside and stopped him, taking a seat at the long edge of the bed next to him.

“Do not get up,” she said firmly, even as she adjusted his pillows and covers.

He was frail. His eyes were sunken and his skin was a gray pallor compared to the dark, rusty tan one she had known in her childhood. The veins on his arms were still prominent, but the muscle had degraded.

“Very well, but we will make one tomorrow.” he said, as Logan brushed the wispy white hair from his age-spotted forehead and kissed it.

“He has also given us a bull elk. It is in the storage.. I will process it tomorrow.” she said, standing.

“No, we have enough, it can be processed later. Do no work tomorrow. Tell me this,” he began as she went to start a kettle of hot water, “What happened to Rakiram’s boy? Did you two ever make up? It is not good to let these things go without resolution.” he asked.

Logan’s shoulders fell even as she filled the vessel with water and hung the kettle. The man they were talking about was one in the same.

“We have. He is well.” she responded over her shoulder so he could read her lips. She no longer tried to convince him of the truth; at some point, his mind had deviated from reality, and there were two young male friends to Logan. When she had tried to argue it before, it had only caused hurt between them. She now chose to go along with it for his sake.

“Good... that is good.” he said, settling into the bed. Logan disappeared into the hallway and returned with two mugs, each with dried herbs inside. When the water was hot, she filled them both and let them sit for several minutes, before offering one to Vincent and drinking from the other.

“When is the ceremony?” he asked with a wrinkled smile.

“It will be in the spring.” she responded.

“Ah... this is good. You will not forget about me?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

Logan shook her head, and urged him to sip his drink.

“I will always be here.”