After the moot, and after her little bit of extra chat with Ljota that followed, Hildegund made her way back to her hut. She mulled over some things as she limped along, not hiding it so much now that there was no one to see.
She wished that Home-Wright's joke about bride-price hadn't happened, or that it hadn't hit her so hard. It was still hard for her to think around the memories it had brought up. But nobody knew, and it wasn't anything but a jest. It had kept her from being able to say or ask some things with Snow-Hair and Ljota, but there would likely be other opportunities for those. And perhaps her thoughts hadn't really mattered, anyway. That seemed likely.
She still would need to see about getting something to put on her leg to keep the skin from tightening up too much around the scars to come, though, if she was to walk normally enough again. She'd have to remember to try to catch Snow-Hair in the morning. Or, failing that, perhaps she could manage a visit to Staddle on her own? Combe smelled too awful, and the noises in Bree were too much. But Home-Wright made Staddle sound quite a bit more tractable.
Sure, she could try to go along with Ljota and Hound-Friend to Bree, but they had a different purpose for their trip, and she didn't need to keep burdening them with her limitations. No matter how nice the smiles from Ljota were, or how warm they made her feel inside. And that was another thing to think on. The skin-changer's smiles were rare, perhaps rarer than her own.
She wondered what sort of name to try to put to those exchanges, but the images from her first two clans were still making it too difficult for her to think of such things. At least this clan, that Far-Scout had adopted her into, they treated her like she was of some worth.
Her thoughts slid away from that, not wanting to fall into the painful memories so far just yet. Instead, she thought on the support she'd had from both Ljota and Snow-Hair, and wondered. Perhaps they just hadn't seen her when she was so nearly crippled by her inability to deal with all the sensations? They really only saw her at the lodge, or one-on-one, and when she was fairly calm. She could almost make proper words, then.
Maybe she should give them the same speech she had made for Home-Wright? But then… trying to make it too many times probably wasn't good. And did Hound-Friend need to hear it, too? He seemed almost to know, but maybe some of the things she'd found so odd while going to the healer, in particular, would be explained by thinking he didn't quite?
Yes, that settled that question, at least. She should work harder at putting the words together, and not leave out the things she'd forgotten earlier, and ask to make a speech at the next moot. Well, if they didn't have any strangers in. That could be a complication. She wasn't sure she could even manage a prepared speech then, besides not being sure a stranger should hear it.
By then, she was reaching her hut. She and Fang relieved themselves before going to settle in for the night. She got out of her clothes and blew the coals back to life in her fire-box, and set out their furs and blankets on the floor. It was not going to be a good night, and she knew it. Those memories were too close. But she could calm herself enough that she could comfort Fang when he was disturbed by her nightmares, and that would have to be good enough.
