And in each cup—
Butter.Small portions of creamy yellow butter, perfectly formed in their little flower cups.
She plucked one carefully.The cup detached easily, and the butter inside was real—she could smell it, rich and fresh.
She spread it on her torn piece of bread with her finger—no knives yet, that was another problem—and took a bite.
Heaven.Absolute heaven.For the first time since arriving, she felt properlyfed.
She finished the bread and butter standing by the counter, licking her fingers clean.The warmth in her belly was almost as good as the warmth from the oven.
Almost.
She looked down at herself.Silk nightgown.Fleece slippers.Blanket wrapped around her shoulders.This wasn't going to work for...well, for anything.She couldn't exactly explore her property or deal with the shield or go into town eventually dressed like this.She needed real clothes.
Back outside—it was becoming routine now, this back—and—forth.The morning was properly established, gray and cool but not raining.She could hear birds in the distant woods.Normal birds, she hoped.Not monster birds.
She still had plenty of silk garments from the tree, but those were all undergarments and nightclothes.She needed something sturdier.
Velvet, she thought suddenly.There was a plant called...What was it?She reached into the purse, sorting.
Velvet leaf violet.
The warmth felt soft, plush.She pulled it out.
The plant grew quickly, flowering large.And just like the blanket flower, the blooms were made of rolled-up clothes.
Velvet clothes.
Jackets, skirts, even a few hats.Deep jewel tones—burgundy, forest green, midnight blue.The petals unfurled as she watched, velvet ribbons trailing from them like streamers.
She pulled down a forest green jacket and a long burgundy skirt.The velvet was thick and soft, perfectly made.The jacket had buttons carved from wood, the skirt had a comfortable elastic waist.
Not exactly practical farm clothes, but better than a nightgown.
She went back inside and changed quickly, layering the velvet over her silk underthings.The outfit was surprisingly warm.Almost too warm near the oven, but she'd take it.
She caught her reflection in one of the windows and had to laugh.She looked like she was dressed for a Renaissance fair.Velvet and silk and fleece slippers.
"Well," she said to her reflection."At least I won't freeze."
Now what?She looked around the room, taking stock.She had: shelter, heat, light, food, water, clothes, dishes, tea.
What she didn't have: soap.Cleaning supplies.Washcloths.Any way to actually bathe or do laundry.
She was starting to feel almost human again.Fed, warm, dressed.But she could feel the grime on her skin from the mad dash through the rain, the dirt under her fingernails, the scrapes on her palms that needed cleaning.
Soap.She needed soap.
And something to wash with—a cloth, a sponge, something.
Back to the purse.She was getting faster at this, her fingers dancing through the seeds with more confidence.
Soapberry tree.
Perfect.
She planted it outside, adding to her growing grove.The tree rose up, branches spreading, and then clusters of round shapes appeared.
