Judy never liked her vegetables. When her courses started, she started to loathe them. Their bitterness was amplified to her weak taste buds until she found trouble swallowing. She wasn't fond of sweet things either, except when she was ravenous. She liked salty foods; things she could sink her teeth into until all the juice gushed out in many different flavors. She liked hard things that she could crush with her jaws and feel the pride of dominance when the object gave way and shattered or snapped in halves.
The stew consisted of spicy auburn broth, little chunks of beef, carrots and cabbage and other greens she didn't pay attention to. It probably would have been easier to eat her vegetables first, as she was hungry enough to eat anything, but she didn't. Much to her dismay, the majority of the stew was vegetation.
Gertrude tsked. "Do you not know to eat as a lady?"
Judy realized the delicate habits her mother had drilled into her had failed to materialize this meal, and she was consuming her breakfast as if she were imitating her brothers, or her father's hounds.
"Excuse me." she mumbled, picking up her fork. It took thrice the amount of time to get the stuff into her mouth using a utensil, but she was under Samuel's roof, and she had to follow the mistress of the house's rules.
When they were finished—Gertrude had commented on Victor's nails (offered to help 'fix' them) which Victor declined with a scowl—Gertrude told them to stay put at the dining table, rushing behind a door around a hallway in the off-white farmhouse. When she emerged not a few minutes later, in her arms were two tunics, a pair of dark trousers and a skirt.
Victor, in his black overcoat and white-collared shirt didn't need an extra set of clothing. Jimmy and Judy—
"We'll need you out of your nightclothes if you expect to help us around the farm."
Victor shot his siblings an exasperated look at this when Gertrude wasn't looking.
So Jimmy and Victor stayed in the living room as Judy changed in the hall closet. She wedged her night gown, her two diamond hair pins (she originally had three, but the third must have became loose) and her jeweled earrings behind a chest of drawers, promising to fetch them later, as a reminder of what she still considered home.
She shut the closet door behind her in her new skirt and tunic that were considerably more pleasant to be in than her usual fancy gowns, but less luxurious in the comparison of appearance. Gertrude wasn't present in the room, so Judy gathered Jimmy's dull red robes sprawled carelessly on the cushioned armchair and folded them quickly, dashing back into the closet to shove them behind the drawers.
Victor sighed when she came back. "If you hoard everything, you'll never be able to let things go."
Judy frowned. "I don't hoard."
"You do sometimes, actually." teased Jimmy.
Judy stuck her tongue at her twin, but it quickly darted back in her mouth as Gertrude appeared and indicated them to follow her as they made their way around the farmhouse, back to the stables.
"You three have parents?"
"No," Victor shook his head. "It's just us."
She raised an eyebrow, an action Judy wished she could do, but couldn't, no matter how much effort Jimmy put into teaching her. "You're runaways then?" Judy caught an undertone of wariness.
Victor shook his head again. "Our parents were murdered, and we ran away." he answered vaguely.
Gertrude's eyes widened, though murder wasn't all that uncommon. She didn't ask about their family again.
They reentered the horse stables, the animals stomping their hooves and emitting skittish noises. There was a single person occupying the building before them, a lanky boy with hair the color of straw, grooming a mare with specks of white on its rump. He looked to be of Victor's age.
He had the horse's bent foreleg between his knees as he crouched slightly, the hoof cupped in one hand as he picked off dirt with a metal hook. He turned his head when he heard their footsteps, and placed the horse's toe back on the ground as he stood. The boy smiled at Gertrude. "Ma'am."
"Michael." Gertrude greeted with a nod. "This is William, and Logan. They'll be helping you tend to the horses."
Judy couldn't suppress a smile at the alarmed expression on Victor's face and the apprehension on Jimmy's.
"It's a pleasure meeting you." Michael said politely.
Judy felt an abrupt bout of shyness sweep over her as she met Michael's eyes. They were of the brightest blue she'd ever seen.
"I'm Michael," he told Judy.
"J—Mary." she mumbled, wondering what was turning her brain into syrup, and her tongue into a rock.
He smiled—she'd never seen teeth so straight—and she tried to avoid looking directly at him, or she would blush harder or say or do something she would agonize over later. Turning to the horse behind him, he patted her shoulder. "This is Burst of Stardust." he said proudly to Judy's two brothers. "I was just preparing to shoe her. You two have much experience in replacing a horseshoe?" They didn't. "It's simple, really; I'll show you…"
Gertrude placed her hand on Judy's upper back, Judy relieved and disappointed that they weren't spending more time with Michael, as she lead the two out of the horse stables. And then, Judy felt a moment of panic as she realized she just left her brothers back there, and put herself in the hands of a woman she met less than two hours ago.
Maybe her expression betrayed her thoughts, because Gertrude reassured her, "You won't be doing anything too strenuous today. We'll be sewing, and you can feed the chickens later."
Sewing. Judy was proficient at that.
They entered the living room. "Mabel's feeding the chickens now, but she'll be here." Gertrude said, pulling a large wooden chest from under the bureau, and opening it to reveal baby clothes, tattered tunics, spare fabrics and sweaters too small for even Judy to wear comfortably, along with spools of colored thread and needles. "Winter's approaching, and we have only so long until the frost starts to bite."
The older woman handed her a dull gray sweater, and told her she wanted it a hat. "You know to sew, do you not?"
Judy quickly nodded, seating herself on the side chair. "Of course."
And she quickly found herself in the relaxing process of weaving in, out and back again. A half an hour later—Judy lost track of the time—Mabel skipped through the doors and Gertrude introduced them. Mabel thought it was funny their names matched, like they could be sisters, albeit Mabel was running away in terror from Judy's family back in the stables just hours ago. Mabel was friendly and cheerful in an irritating way, as she and Gertrude chatted about husbands and potential husbands and the army and men. It's all the same, mused Judy as she listened without comment, The only difference is their social rankings and amounts of money. Occasionally, they would attempt to coax Judy into the conversation, but soon realized she wanted to be in the sidelines, and let her be.
Judy was teetering on the balance of disliking Mabel and accepting her as an acquaintance, until she commented on how 'handsome' Victor was.
They took a break for a snack of apples once, and then went back to sewing the old into new.
After Judy finished two hats and was working on leggings out of the sleeves of the sweater, she misjudged the distance between the index finger and the needle, pricking the digit. She felt the familiar sting, sharp enough that she knew she drew blood. Impulsively, she promptly stuck her finger between her lips.
Gertrude, noticing this, sighed. Crossing the room, she removed the thimble from her finger and handed it to Judy. "Use this."
Judy thanked her, and removed her finger from her mouth. Gertrude went back to the armchair, and continued her conversation with Mabel. Judy looked, but there wasn't a thimble on Gertrude's finger.
"Gertrude," Judy said when the conversation reached a suitable stopping point, "You haven't any protection from the needle, why won't you use those?" she gestured to the pile of porcelain of thimbles in the corner of the open chest.
Judy felt heat rise to her cheeks as the ladies chuckled at her ignorance. "Those are keepsakes." Mabel corrected. "They're gifts, and aren't for sewing, but Mother keeps them in there, for decoration, is my guess. Father uses them to measure gunpowder, though."
Judy never got a thimble as a gift, and couldn't imagine ever receiving one, but nodded in understanding. She was about to slip on the silver utensil, when she realized her finger had not a hole as she could see. She squeezed her digit, but no blood beaded out. She could've sworn she tasted the salty liquid when it was in her mouth….
Gertrude stood when the grandfather clock chimed seven times. "I do believe 'tis time for the chickens to feed."
"I've never had to feed chickens before," objected Judy sheepishly, hoping she didn't sound arrogant.
She only smiled. "Now that won't do. Mabel, why don't you show the dear how."
Mabel hopped from her seat and took Judy's hand, skipping out the door way and scampering down the porch steps, Judy almost tripping down the last.
They raced to the old barn, Judy going easy on Mabel as not to upset her.
The barn smelt mostly of wheat and butter, and she could hear the occasional skitter of a mouse's feet and chitter. She also spotted owl droppings and glanced to the ceiling for it. There was a lump of mud and straw and twigs, but it was vacant.
Once inside, Mabel picked up two tin pails and bent down, attempting to lift an almost-full sack of grain. Judy immediatly went to help pour the buckets of the chicken feed.
"They like eating first thing in the morning," explained Mabel as they crossed the uneven terrain to the chicken coop. "So we fill the pails at night, and replace them at sunrise." She pointed to Judy's overflowing pail that spilled a bit of grain every time it bumped. "That's for the meat chickens. They need more exercise than the egg-laying ones, so you put that on the shelf."
Judy blinked in confusion. "Don't we need to spread it on the ground? So they don't fight over it?"
Mabel laughed, "No, they're pretty tame. It's the roosters that fight."
Judy nodded, and studied the two separate coops. They had a tall fence covering the perimeter and another to divide them, and the meat chickens had more outside than in, while the egg-laying chickens were mostly inside the shelter, but otherwise didn't look all that different. The chickens smelt of grain and corn and a little like her feet did when they spent all day in the same pair of shoes.
She watched as Mabel placed her pail in the center of the coop floor, picking up the quarter-full pail. The birds flocked to the bucket and stuck their heads in and out.
"If they're so hungry," Judy asked Mabel, "Why don't they finish that?" she gestured to the leftover grain.
"They only take what they like," answered Mabel with a shrug. "Fickle things, they are."
Judy ducked into the coop, grimacing as the birds scattered and flapped their wings to avoid her. She didn't understand this; they were fine with Mabel, one even let her stroke its feathers. She guessed it was because they weren't used to her scent. She set the full bucket and picked up the previous, near-empty container. The chickens didn't come near, only watched warily from afar.
Judy stepped off the ramp as Mabel frowned when the chickens gave the pail a wide berth—or as wide as they could in a tiny pen—and locked the gate. "Huh. They're usually friendly with all humans."
Judy knew Jimmy wasn't a human—no humans had those claws protruding from between their knuckles like that. If her blood brother wasn't human, did that mean she wasn't either? Or did the animals just recognize Jimmy's scent on her?
Judy's sharp ears picked up the sound of a ringing cowbell. Mabel grinned, "That's the supper bell. C'mon, I'm hungry."
"Me, too."
They deposed of the chicken feed in the pig trough, and the containers by stopping at the barn before returning to the farmhouse. The hired harvesters had gone home, and Michael lived in the farmhouse, so the only ones at the table were Samuel—who didn't speak at all—and Michael, Mabel, Gertrude, Judy, Jimmy and Victor. And steak, which wasn't chopped up and in stew this time.
Mabel and Gertrude started to set the table. Judy went to help, but Samuel spoke in that alpha voice of his, "Mary, why don't you go and feed the cats."
Judy was slightly confused, but she knew cats, and liked them, so she nodded obediently, ignoring the reappearing sourness of his scent.
"They're usually in the barn at this time," piped up Mabel.
Judy took the burlap sack of cow entrails from Gertrude and slipped out the doorway, smiling when she heard her brother's footsteps behind her.
Like the gentleman he was taught to be, Jimmy took the bag from her.
"The horses hate me." he mumbled, and Victor laughed.
"What do you mean?" asked a confused Judy.
"Jimmy tried to lift Stardust's leg and she kicked him." snickered Victor, and Jimmy rubbed the small of his back with a grimace as he relived the memory.
Judy's eyes widened in worry. "You're okay, though?"
"Fine," he reassured. "It doesn't even hurt anymore. Mike says I'm lucky Stardust didn't break any bones."
"We couldn't shoe the horses after that, they're too frightened of us," Victor added, proudly, though Judy couldn't imagine why.
"Then what did you do?"
"We tended to the collies and the sheep," replied her twin. "Their wool gets stuck on everything. And they stink."
"They hate us, too." Victor added with a roll of his eyes.
Judy sighed, a bit envious. "All I did was sew and feed the chickens."
"I don't see any cats," mused Jimmy as the three stood at the double-doorway. They waited a few minutes, but there wasn't a meow.
"I'm heading back," announced an impatient Victor, turning on his heel.
"Why don't we leave the food here, and maybe they'll come later?" Judy told Jimmy.
He nodded and upturned the burlap so the entrails flopped to the floor, nose wrinkling in disgust.
They started back, and Judy looked back over her shoulder, still hoping to catch a glimpse of the outdoor cat. No luck, but she did notice something just as interesting. "Wait!" she called, causing her brothers to stop.
"What?"
"Let's go see something first." Judy started running back to the direction of the barn, knowing they would follow. They passed the wooden structure, and didn't stop until they reached the highest hill in the pasture, the one at the nick of the farm territory, where they had the best view of the area and of the rich colors of the setting sun.
They sat, and they watched, and these were the last, most beautiful colors Judy would ever see.
Nearly half an hour later, they were speeding across the terrain, hungry for their steak and supper.
"Sorry," gasped Judy after the three barged through the open door, "We were watching the sun set."
She felt a jolt of surprise when she looked up; for once Mabel was not smiling, and Michael's luminous eyes were full of hostilely. Directed towards Judy.
She felt guilt tug at her. "I'm really sorry you had to wait so long—"
She cut off as Samuel held up his hand. "Eat, before the steak gets any colder."
Mabel shot up from her chair, came back with three mugs and went back for four more. She set the first three near the three siblings' plate, and the other four by Michael's and her family. She cleared her throat. "Fruit is mighty hard to come by at this time, but we still scavenged up what was left of the black and blue berries before the crows got them, and we used what we had stored."
"For the juice," added Gertrude. "A treat, for you three. For your hard work today, and for willing to learn new things."
The three said their thanks—but not Victor, even when Judy nudged him under the table the boy was still too proud, and at the farmers' expectant looks, the twins each took sips out of the mugs. It was too sweet for Judy, but it made her feel safe and warm and snug, though the drink was cold, and she wanted more. Before she knew it, her mug was empty.
"Any more?" she tried to ask, but her mouth had apparently grown fur and swelled in size, as she found it extremely difficult to pronounce the simplest of words.
It didn't matter anymore, though, because she felt so sluggish, as if she was dreaming, and her eyes burned and her eyelids drifted closed involuntary. She vaguely heard Victor's voice, but it was muffled, like he was speaking above and she was underwater. But it sounded important, he was shouting and shaking her, and she attempted to rise, but the dream pulled her back under again, this time deeper, until the frantic voices faded away and there was silence.
I would like to thank princesslolitatheora654. Though short, your encouraging review made my day! Shout out to you.