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How could I?

I closed my eyes on my hopeless tears as my son began to chatter about the horse and all the supplies Maardok brought, and I felt the air chill again as our big savior slipped from the front door.

With a sigh, I put my arm around my son, snuggled down, and closed my eyes as I listened to the tale of his day.

I startled awake several hours later when Maardok returned, snow on his shoulders and stamping it off his big boots. Ewan was drooling peacefully on my shoulder, and the babe was jumping on my bladder. But I was…rested.

And when Maardok grinned approvingly at me across the room, warmth flared in my chest.

Ignoring my blush, I struggled out of the mattress, wishing I wasn’t so out of sorts with my own body.

Over the next few hours, Maardok taught my son how to skin and butcher the four white hares he’d shot with his bow. He built racks from scrap wood in the barn to stretch the hides.

“Later, ye can use the fur to line mittens,” he told Ewan.

“I don’t have mittens,” the lad announced, “and neither does Mama.”

“Aye, I noticed.” Maardok sent a glance my way from under his dark brows, but I couldn’t interpret it. “Fetch my extra plaid from my bags, laddie.”

And together, right then and there, they began to cut out the wool for mittens. When I realized he was going to sew them himself with a little bundle of needles and thread he carried, I scoffed and told him I could do it, to cover my embarrassment at my gratitude.

So while I sewed, he and Ewan rearranged the furniture—well, Maardok did while my son scampered about getting in the way. The bed went along the wall, the table went in front of the hearth, the chimney was finally unclogged, and when he returned from the barn with more wood, I realized he intended to fix the wobbly table leg as well.

“And make a stool for Ewan,” he told me, shooting a glance at the lad. “I like ye well, laddie, but we cannae sit double for every meal.”

And thus, by the evening meal, with the snow piling up outside, the little crofter’s hut was almost cozy. The fire roared, now that he promised to chop more wood for us, and there was cheese to go with the bread, and the rabbit meat was succulent.

A miracle, it seemed. I was overwhelmed by the emotions of the day. How long had it been since I’d allowed myself to feel this much, rather than just focusing on survival?

Ewan’s eyes were as heavy as mine by the time we cleaned up the meal. I had him wash up again and noticed he was dragging his feet.

Maardok, meanwhile, had wrapped himself in the remainder of his second plaid and was settling in front of the hearth. Ewan noticed.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll sleep here. I assume ye and yer mother share the bed.”

“But it’s a big bed! I’m small—I should sleep by the fire!”

Maardok snorted as the lad tried to pull the plaid from his shoulders, and I stepped in.

“Maardok, you deserve comfort. Take the bed with Ewan, I can⁠—”

I bit down on my words as both of them whirled on me with fierce glares, dark eyes flashing identically. Who knew a five-year-old could scowl as severely as a full-grown orc?

“Cataline, ye will take the mattress.”

“Aye, Mama, my little brother needs the rest, and ye groan and toss and turn too much.” He nodded solemnly to the male he stood beside. “Sometimes she almost tosses me from the mattress, not on purpose though. You should sleep next to her, like last time, because she won’t be able to toss you to the ground.”

I gaped at them both, trying to decide how to defend myself, when I saw Maardok’s lips twitch.

“Is that the case, wee one?”

“Now that the fire is nice and warm, I can be cozy here.” Ewan stomped on the stone. “I won’t get burned.”

“I would never allow it,” the hulking male told him, before they both turned to look at me.

Ewan’s dark eyes were pleading, but surely Maardok’d prefer the comfort of the bed? But his expression was blank, leaving the decision to me.