Homen set to plucking the duck with an excited fervor. Sheilaktar leaned against the mantelpiece, amused and still shaking her head.
"I still cannot believe thou actually hit that," she laughed. "Nor can I determine whether thee've a steady throwing arm or merely fool's luck."
He looked up at her briefly; just long enough for her to see the joyful pride on his face. Then he looked quickly down to his work, smiling. "Can we make soup?" he hoped.
"With cream," she agreed, standing up to fetch ingredients, "and sweet potatoes. Where have we put the celery?"
"Second jar on the top shelf to the right," he told her.
"Thank you, dear."
'Dear' was a new word. And a nice one, he thought. He plucked the bird and set water to boil. Nüdnisé roused from her afternoon nap and reached out to nibble the edge of his coat. He found her a few jarred cherries to nibble on.
Sheilaktar prepared the vegetables, glancing at him occasionally. "Homen," she called after a bit, because it was unfair to leave him ill informed. "I am going to be traveling for Midwinter. It is a very important day for Rashemi."
He looked to her thoughtfully. "Will you be gone long?"
"A week," she told him gently. "Midwinter, The Feast of the Mother, is a time of unity among the Wychlaran. Thousands will gather in Mulsantir to trade, weave stories, and participate in the ancient rituals of the season. It is a time for celebration even the most ornery of woodland hermits do not excuse themselves from."
The boy was quiet a moment. Then he nodded. "I cannot come?" he made sure.
"Not unless thou wants to become the Feast's main course," she teased with a wink.
He must have known she was joking, but he did not smile. "I understand, senneta. I will look after the cottage."
When Homen returned to preparing the duck, Sheilaktar watched his body language. He may have affected to appear calm about her departure, but his stiff gestures suggested anxiety or distress. It wasn't her imagination; he genuinely feared her absence. She knew she had been right to leave him sleeping draughts in the past, then.
Perhaps he simply did not want to be left alone. But then she wondered why he feared solitude more than he feared ghosts or Lindwurms. Perhaps he had lost someone while fleeing Thay, or multiple someones. He'd mentioned seeing ghosts during Samhain.
Sheilaktar frowned. Learning to deal with loss was a right of passage for any young person's transition to adulthood... But she was thankful her little fosterling had not ended up facing the world entirely alone. He was sweet tempered, and hard working, and a good child. By fate or fortune, she was glad she had saved him that day.
The Hathran looked down at her peeled potatoes. He would be alright in her absence, she assured herself. It was only a week, and her cottage was the safest location in all the Orchards.
Though Homen was not the only one who had previously been alone...