Page 10 of An Arrow to the Heart

She waved her hand as if to dismiss his concerns and said, “Ach I’m sure you’ll be back on your feet in no time, trust in Sylvie. There’s still plenty of time yet.” It’s not that he didn’t trust in the Healer, she was undoubtedly one of the best he had come across in his travels but surely that wouldn't make his knee heal any faster than the laws of nature allowed. He couldn’t help wonder if she had meant something more.

“Right,” Margarete said whilst pushing herself up with the aid of the table, steadying herself with use of the back of the chair.

“I best get going, don’t want to get caught in the rain,” she said as she set down the basket with the remaining sweet rolls. “Enjoy these,” she said with a wink as a form of goodbye.

Ardál simply said, “thank you, may your home find you safely.” whilst staring past the woman and out the window, taking note of the lack of clouds in the sky and blazing sunshine. Older folk became more and more strange with age he found, regardless he was grateful for her visit and the effort it must have taken.

“You’ve got a little something there,” said Sylvie, lining the edge of her lips with her fingers.

Startled, Ardál stared at her for a moment, he hadn't even realised she came into the room, his expression soon changed to one etched in confusion for he had no idea what she was talking about, and Gods the way her fingers traced over lips like that. There was only one thing he could think of, and he sure as hell knew that’s not what she was implying.

“Huh?” was all he managed.

“From the sweet roll you just scoffed,” she said, slight amusement in her tone as she tidied up around the little table, and opened the window for some fresh late-summer air.

Ardál licked his lips to discover he’d managed to smear some of the sugary glaze. He immediately brought his fingers over the area, ensuring he got it all.

For fucks sake.

As if he couldn’t look more stupid in front of this heavenly creature.

He was mortified.

“I could do with a proper wash,” he said, in an attempt to change the subject. “I’m sure you’re bound to be sick of the stink of me.”

She turned to face him, an unreadable expression upon her face, “are you asking me to wash you?”

His eyes widened, as heat stormed his cheeks. “I… I… no, no, that’s not at all what I meant,” he said, nearly choking on his words.

“Hm, okay,” she shrugged.

Wait what?

Did she want to wash me… Surely not. He swallowed hard, trying to force down the thoughts of her washing him, of her touching him.

“I’m only teasing,” she said quickly as though detecting his train of thought, biting her bottom lip as she held in a laugh, “I’ll bring you some hot water, soaps and towels and you can sort yourself. I’m afraid you wouldn’t quite fit in my tub without being able to bend your knee.”

Ardál cleared his throat, Gods how he wished the ground would swallow him whole and rescue him from his mortification. “That would be great. Thank you.”

She gave him a smile he could have sworn entailed something wild before she went off and got him the wash supplies as promised without any more words.

The rest of his day had followed the same pattern as the previous four. In the afternoons August came and aided Sylvie with various chores that included cleaning out the chamber pot. A small mercy in Ardál’s eyes for he couldn’t quite stand the idea of the Healer cleaning out a pot of his piss. August was also good company, the teenager had a natural curiosity about him that he liked. He’d ask for stories of his travels so Ardál happily indulged the boy.

Phelan also seemed to enjoy the boy’s company for while he was here he would follow him around, tail wagging, as if to keep him safe and August rewarded him by playing fetch with him before he left. Then his evenings were spent by the Healer checking on his wound, going over his health in intricate detail. She was nothing if not thorough. Her attention to detail was unmatched and he was ashamed to say it but her gentle touch made his day.

After she was satisfied about his healing she would cook up supper and bring it to him. Then he would sleep. Sleep had always claimed him fast, he had an inkling that the tea the Healer provided him with wasn’t just chamomile. But in truth he was glad for it as the past few nights had been blissful dreamless sleep.

After another three days of much of the same Ardál began to feel more and more restless, it was bad enough that he couldn’t move around and take care of himself but he was beginning to long for more to keep his mind occupied. As though sensing his trepidation, the Healer had pulled out two wooden crutches suitable for his height.

“It’ll be painful and move slowly to keep your right leg straight,” she said and he nodded as he eagerly took the crutches off her hands.

She briefly showed him how to use the crutches but he had figured it out himself, eager to stand. She carefully watched him as he brought his legs off the bed and stood up, the crutches bearing his weight. As he took a small step towards her, he winced before quickly mastering his face back to a smile. He sensed that she debated offering her help but in the end she appeared to have decided against it, perhaps she didn’t want to encroach, so she left him to it.

She quickly disappeared out the back door, with a long list of chores in need of doing no doubt, her only other words were her offering her home to him. Though she strictly forbade him to leave the house. Supposedly, she wanted him near in case he hurt himself, even if part of him secretly hoped it was because she liked having him around.

Ardál found himself surprised by the cottage’s interior, the room he’d been staying in lay in stark contrast to the rest of the home. For that’s what it was, a home, her home and he suddenly felt like he was imposing on her space.

He had stepped directly from his room into the inviting open-plan living space, directly in front of him on the back wall was a large red stone fireplace. In front of that sat a worn settee flanked by equally worn armchairs, both adorned in an array of cushions and blankets. He could only imagine their comfort. To his left was the large forest green front door, a large wooden dresser at its side, stocked full of all sorts of what Ardál could only conceive to be medical supplies. The walls either side of the front window were lined with shelves, each one crammed with books. The wooden floors that spanned the expanse of the cottage were adorned in various rugs and animal furs. To his right was the kitchen space, lower cabinets lined the walls, the stone basin sat under the large window that overlooked the garden and similarly to the other side, the walls were covered in shelves. These ones though, had an assortment of dishes, homemade jars of produce and bottles lining them. In the heart of the kitchen sat a large island cabinet. Vases with flowers of every colour imaginable were dotted on every surface, giving the entire space an overwhelming floral scent. Beyond the main space was a corridor that housed narrow stairs leading to the loft space and doors to other rooms.