Jessandra

The trap-maker gave up on trying to sketch more designs, and was already too sore in the fingers from having her daydreaming distract her from the physical side of her work. She sighed and sat back, trying to draw portraits of her sweetheart again, despite not really feeling like she was capturing what mattered. At least it was sort of an excuse that almost justified thinking of her so much.

Aelfrida carries the dishes slowly and carefully into the cookery, a very stern look on her face as she concentrates on not dropping them. There is some shuffling in the cookery, then a loud splashing of water and slight crashing sound. She calls out, "I'm all right!"
 

Jessandra shakes her head and moves toward the kitchen. "Washing up is one of the few things in a kitchen I'm not hopeless at. I'll help."
 

At spear training, Heriwulf had talked about the deep, steady breathing that helps a warrior maintain both the body and the mind. How you breathe is one of the easiest things to learn, and the hardest things to keep up in the heat of the moment, and most important things that made a good warrior a great one, though no one knew it. You need both air and calm to survive the challenges; and steady, deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, give both.

Making her way back to her work-site at the trapping company's camp was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do. It took her through the field that was still being cleared of orcs and piled up for burning, and past the feasting ravens. At least there wasn't that much sign left of what her traps themselves had wrought, even though the plan worked well, and it had only been the enemy that got hurt.

"Hullo, ma'am. Are you lost?"

Jessandra looked up to see what had prompted that comment from Orred. She had to squint a little against the glare from the sun, but then waved as the approaching figure finally spoke.

In the space of a single sennight, everything in Heriwulf's life had been turned upside down. They were all good changes, but they were exhausting, too, full of risks and challenges, demands and urgency, and the promise of things ending much better, soon. Or becoming the source of yet more regrets to hang about his neck.

Heriwulf is using the hand-cart to bring archery targets and hay bales out into a clear space within the stockade, and setting up the targets atop the hay bales.
Jessandra breaks off the sizing up she's been doing with Marney and wanders over. "Need help with that? Or would it be too much bother to tell someone else how?"
Heriwulf | Hundr runs up to Jessandra as soon as she approaches and gives her a cheerful yip. Brenn and Dalgo, on patrol around the stockade (but mostly staying near the entrance) don't seem much interested in her.

Fortunately, pups don't take a lot of care, especially in the first few fortnights when their eyes aren't even open yet and they can't do much more than waddle and nurse. But that's also unfortunate, because tending the pups was the best part of Heriwulf's day.

"Come, Fang."

The hound broke off investigating the loam in case it had changed, and trotted after. The command was to come, and not heel or just being expected to follow along. That meant some sort of possible trouble. But it would be trouble for Mistress only, and not for a hound. His job would be to watch for other threats.