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Nettle had assured her she wouldn’t be long, but it had been a while now and Snow was growing restless. However, she didn’t dare take a chance and try to maneuver without help in unfamiliar surroundings.
She tried to listen to what was going on around her, but there was too much noise and she couldn’t distinguish all the sounds or shadows.
“I’ve brought you a hot brew,” Nettle called out to let her know she approached.
Snow liked Nettle. While her penchant to detail everything might annoy others, it helped Snow greatly. It was like Nettle painted a picture for her and she could see it clearly. She had detailed the various foods on the table this morning and where each sat, making it easier for Snow to help herself.
“I’ve placed a tankard in front of you,” Nettle said when she reached the table.
“Thank you, Nettle. You have been most kind and helpful and I do appreciate it.”
“I enjoy assisting you and I’m grateful you don’t mind my chatter. I sometimes think it’s because I spend so much time alone that I talk endlessly when around others. I do try to mind my tongue, but I fear it’s a helpless cause.”
“It’s the way you detail things that helps me see through your eyes. Like now, can you tell me what goes on? It almost feels like everyone is running about and I think I hear whispers but I’m not sure.”
Nettle sat and slid close to Snow, keeping her voice low. “Everyone wonders about the two dead men Lord Tarass’s warriors brought to the village.”
“Two dead men? Are you sure?” Snow asked anxiously. She and Tarass had come across one body. Where had the other body come from or had Tarass sent his men to search for Finn’s body?
“Aye, many saw the bodies being carried into the village not long ago. It couldn’t possibly be anyone in the clan since all are accounted for, so that’s why tongues are wagging. That and Lord Tarass wears a scowl and Rannock wears a scowl as well, and it’s never good when they both wear scowls.”
Snow recalled meeting Rannock when she first arrived, his comment about Thaw not making much of a meal still on her mind.
“Do the people worry that they are in danger with the discovery of two dead men?” Snow asked.
Nettle chuckled. “Not with Lord Tarass leading them.” She lowered her voice, her chuckle gone. “From the tales I’ve heard, Lord Tarass is not only a skilled warrior but a vicious one as well. There are not many who would challenge him and those who do have rarely lived to tell the tale.”
“Is your tongue wagging again, Nettle?” Fasta scolded loud enough for all to hear.
Nettle hurried to her feet, but Snow responded before the lass could.
“We share a conversation, which I very much enjoy,” Snow said with an air of authority her sister Sorrell would surely compliment.
“Nettle is needed in the kitchen. She can take you to your room before she goes, since she will be gone for some time,” Fasta said.
Snow heard the annoyance in Fasta’s voice and also the satisfaction it brought her that she was sending Snow to her room.
“That won’t be necessary,” Snow said. “I will wait here for Nettle.”
“It will be quite a while before she is free,” Fasta argued.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m content here,” Snow said and to make it clear she would hear no more, she turned away from Fasta to where she knew Nettle stood. “I will see you later, Nettle.”
“Do not get in anyone’s way,” Fasta snapped. “Nettle, the kitchen… now.”
It didn’t take long for Snow to grow bored. At home she would be busy, walking through the village with Thaw, visiting with the new mums and the elderly, or spending time in her mum’s solar secretly trying to teach herself to stitch while blind. She had loved to stitch when she had her sight. She would make garments for the new bairns born to the clan and make repairs on the garments of those in the keep, and she missed doing it.
Eleanor had come upon her one day and had offered to help guide her stitching with a row of loose stitches she could follow by touch, and it had helped greatly. It was still difficult to accept how dependent she was on others, but Sorrell had often scolded her when Snow had made mention of it.
“You’re no more or less dependent than any of us,” Sorrell would say. “We’re family and each of us depends on one another for something.”
But Sorrell and Willow had their own families now with others depending on them. While she should feel grateful she had James and Eleanor and the clan, there were times she felt more in the way of things than being helpful to anyone. No one certainly made her feel that way, but with her sisters marrying and James and Eleanor close to marrying, she had begun to feel more alone than ever.
