Mel nodded simply as he turned to leave, climbing down from the hayloft, stepping outside to the yard where from the stones had been constructed a small fire pit, collecting and layering dry wood stacked beneath the eaves against the stone lower walls of the stable at the nearest corner. She bent, pulling from the satchel the slim box, producing dry fiber and a chip of flint shaped like an axe head half as broad as her palm. Striking a spark to the kindling she fed in under the wood, gently fanning it to life before settling back on her heels, putting the satchel aside.
She had managed to at least get her bundle near to his before she'd been interrupted by the bang, it appeared, though she showed no further interest in the task at the moment - she was tired, she worn and she wanted more than anything to simply relax. By the time he returned she had managed to encourage a comfortable little fire. His obsession with invading her space, though it felt wildly threatening to the paranoid, secretive woman, did not stir her to acts of territorial aggression, but rather calm curiosity, the low fire crackled and warmed her fingers from the chill in the LeafChange breeze. Picking up the pot she set the stacked cups aside along with the small corked jar atop the satchel, rising to reenter the stable.
In the time it took her to cross the yard, were Eli to climb the short ladder up he might have found the conversion from hayloft to home, though rudimentary in some cases, was neat and orderly. In the furthest corner she had lain out a makeshift bed, a small ledge where the wall turned from stone to wood stacked with a wooden pendant of two fish encircling one another, an eye patch, a box of candles and a small hygiene kit containing a comb, a chewing stick and several small pots of remedies she had gather, traded for or cobbled together, along with a small, palm-sized mirror. At the end of the bed on a makeshift desk lay the middling stages of a project to construct what looked like a lantern along with a shallow tray of light beige paper and a small pot of ink along with several cut-reed pen carefully balanced against a wooden rest. A pool of hardened wax anchored the partially melted remains of a candle to the desk, and all around stood stacks of notes, diagrams and even a few books.
Along the half-wall she had lined up a collection of goods ranging from food (preserved forage, dry grain, beans) to cloth to collections of materials such as nails and good pieces of wood in a crate all their own. On the back wall and rafters she had fixed bundles of drying herbs and plants, including strings of small onions, scarcely larger than his thumb gently swooping overhead and bristling strings of drying fruit. Edible... probably.
"Oh, yes. Please come in." She stood at the entrance, holding the pot full of water near her waist. "Can I help you find anything?"
She had managed to at least get her bundle near to his before she'd been interrupted by the bang, it appeared, though she showed no further interest in the task at the moment - she was tired, she worn and she wanted more than anything to simply relax. By the time he returned she had managed to encourage a comfortable little fire. His obsession with invading her space, though it felt wildly threatening to the paranoid, secretive woman, did not stir her to acts of territorial aggression, but rather calm curiosity, the low fire crackled and warmed her fingers from the chill in the LeafChange breeze. Picking up the pot she set the stacked cups aside along with the small corked jar atop the satchel, rising to reenter the stable.
In the time it took her to cross the yard, were Eli to climb the short ladder up he might have found the conversion from hayloft to home, though rudimentary in some cases, was neat and orderly. In the furthest corner she had lain out a makeshift bed, a small ledge where the wall turned from stone to wood stacked with a wooden pendant of two fish encircling one another, an eye patch, a box of candles and a small hygiene kit containing a comb, a chewing stick and several small pots of remedies she had gather, traded for or cobbled together, along with a small, palm-sized mirror. At the end of the bed on a makeshift desk lay the middling stages of a project to construct what looked like a lantern along with a shallow tray of light beige paper and a small pot of ink along with several cut-reed pen carefully balanced against a wooden rest. A pool of hardened wax anchored the partially melted remains of a candle to the desk, and all around stood stacks of notes, diagrams and even a few books.
Along the half-wall she had lined up a collection of goods ranging from food (preserved forage, dry grain, beans) to cloth to collections of materials such as nails and good pieces of wood in a crate all their own. On the back wall and rafters she had fixed bundles of drying herbs and plants, including strings of small onions, scarcely larger than his thumb gently swooping overhead and bristling strings of drying fruit. Edible... probably.
"Oh, yes. Please come in." She stood at the entrance, holding the pot full of water near her waist. "Can I help you find anything?"
