The sun was bright and warm. Not warm enough to cause any discomfort. No, it was more like a gentle embrace, soft and comforting. From her perch upon the porch steps, she tipped her chin up to catch its delicious caress full upon her face. She felt the warmth along her arms, for it was not yet time to don dresses with long sleeves. Soon, but not yet. She was not the sort of person to hurry things before their time. A few nights had become rather crisp, with frosty air nipping at her cheeks, but she relished them rather than feeling an urge to dash indoors and hide by the hearth.
Even her toes were warm! A pair of mismatched leather shoes sat on the grass beside the stoop; a pair of simple stockings laid across them. The dainty little digits wriggled happily while she peered across the wide, verdant lawn from under the brim of her hat. That broad, floppy hat that looked perhaps a bit silly on her small head. But she cared nothing for whether anyone thought her silly-looking. A hand went up and needlessly adjusted the brim.
The apple tree was in its full glory. A half-filled wooden tub was the evidence of how she'd spent her morning so far, barefoot and floppy-hatted under the washed autumn sky. This well deserved break would not be harried. Her hands braced upon the step, curving her shoulders slightly upwards, and her legs stretched out long and stiff for a moment. A satisfied little grunt followed, and her legs relaxed while she crossed her feet together.
She remembered offering apples to Mister Elias Dimheim when he used to walk over from the neighboring Blackbird Soothery and chat with her. It had been a goodly while since he'd done so.
She remembered sitting with Master Tumunir on the bench beside the apple tree. Long before they were friends. He was a mysterious dwarf who came from who-knew-where, but somehow landed upon the Boarding House doorstep. He refused to sit down himself, he'd stood there next to her. He wore his hood all the time back then. She'd asked him, "Where feels like home for you?"
A petite cat with blazing orange fur, mixed with patches of creamy white, came around the side of the house and swaggered over to her. Winding around the woman's legs, she could feel the stump of the ruined tail, stiff and bouncy against her skin, instead of the silky, languid caress that might have been. "Hullo, Pumpkin," she said casually.
There was a dull thump. It drew the eyes of both woman and cat at once. An apple had fallen to the grass.
"He likes blackberry tarts," she mused aloud. Pumpkin's ear twitched at the voice, but her attention was held by the object that had flown of its own volition from the tree. "Maybe he'll like apple tarts, too?"
Pumpkin had little use for tarts or talk of such things. She crept through the grass, pausing here and there, making her way closer to inspect the suspicious fruit.
The woman drew her feet in and slowly pushed up from the step with a fair bit of grunting and puffing. "Best get to it, then!" she said breathlessly, looking down the sloping path that led to the front gate. How easy it was, to picture him striding along the street, turning his face towards the house, looking for her long before he had even entered the yard. She saw it so vividly that she very nearly startled herself into thinking the apparition was real.
"Aye, me!" she mumbled, chortling at the sudden drum that came alive behind her ribs and beat against them. "Come now, Taite. You can't dream these tarts onto the table!"
