Oh come on Ma, it's not like she'll be climbing a bloody mountain! It's only a dance!
Alys! Watch your language! No! You heard her parents, no! Now hand me over them parsnips, you get to peeling them carrots.
Well I'm going, though I need a dress. Think Jackie has one I can borrow?
Less talk, more peeling!
Alys did as she was told, the young girl, barely a woman, peeled long strips of carrot skin off and into a compost bucket.
When do you think she'll be better Ma? It's been awful long already.
I don't know dear, a long while yet. Now when you're done with that, I want them cut into coin sized bits, you know, as I like them!
Aye I know, I know. I've been thinking though Ma, it's a right shame she can't go, maybe we could have a bit of a party? Invite a few boys, dance, music, bring it to her like?
Might be a bit much dear, a dinner maybe? A few friends aye? but she hasn't got the strength yet to be kicking up her heels and twirling about with lads.
Alys pouted, her pretty plump bottom lip jutted out in protest as the knife made short work of the carrots, and before long a large stack of round pieces were upon the board before her.
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Jackilyn wrote in the journal, a small, unimpressive looking book, though a keeper of her secrets. As the ink flowed upon the pages, she seemed more at ease, as if talking to the bits of parchment took a weight off of her shoulders. It made her smile to listen to the mother and daughter working away in the other room, although she could not make out every word. Her chest still ached from her cough, though her heart ached more whenever she allowed her thoughts to drift to a certain person, the flower she had been gifted often prompting them whenever she looked upon it. Though as she thought back on a particularly special memory, the door opened. Quentin, as tall and as strong as a tree, looking rather odd with a pretty wicker basket in his hand, strode over to her place by the fire and set said basket down upon her lap, it covered and rather heavy.
What's this?
Gift for you Jackie, considering we cant be here all the time, thought you'd like a bit of company!
So you got me a basket? What's it's name? Billy Basket? Brendan Basket? I know! Willy Wicker!
Smart mouth, no, open it up!
Jackilyn pulled the little wicker toggle sealing the lid, and as soon as she did it was forced up, a pair of tiny pale green eyes staring at her surrounded by grey, brown and white tabby fur and a delicate pink nose on the small kittens face, though a rather loud meow! Before she could be told, she gently lifted the tiny cat from the basket and held it to her chest, kissing the top of its head.
Someone at the inn were getting rid of them, she were the last, like her?
Jackilyns smile gave him the answer he needed.
