It was a while yet before Mélanie was able to fully awaken from her feverish sleep, though the moment she opened her eyes she was met with an unknown man with a shocking skin colour. Having never come across such a man as he before, Melanie's first instinct in all her childish innocence was to wonder if she truly had died and she was now looking at the face of God. "Es-tu Dieu?" The aged and greying face above her frowned, the lines furrowing at her question in a look of puzzlement before eventually they answered in a tongue that Mélanie recognised but knew nothing of how to speak it or what any of the words meant when conveyed to her.

"I have no idea what you are saying to me child, and I suspect that you too will not understand a word that I am saying." The stranger answered before sitting down upon the bed which was far larger than any Mélanie had ever laid eyes upon before. For a moment it snatched her attention, looking at the wooden posts, the broad headboard and the deep scarlet covering that lay over her with another blanket wrapped around her shoulders. It was so wide and large that Mélanie wondered just how many people would be able to fit inside it, for she herself barely took up even the smallest corner. "Here, I made you some food. You should eat it whilst it is hot, little one, it is good for you though I'll admit it is bland to taste." Her eyes darted back to the man before her at the sound of his voice, not knowing what he was speaking but he was holding a bowl of steaming broth in his hand with a spoon in the other, offering it towards her.

"Pour moi?" Immediately Mélanie felt ravenous however the moment she attempted to take the bowl for herself, her arms felt weak and shockingly heavy, meaning that she could not bear the weight and almost tipped the entire thing into her lap. Where Achilles not still holding onto the bowl, thinking that perhaps this might happen, Mélanie would have severely scalded herself. She caught the tips of her fingers, causing her to gasp and hiss with a quick French yelp before she blew upon her fingertips, quickly sucking away the hot juices of the broth before her winsome orbs turned back onto the stranger.

"Perhaps it is best if I hold onto this for now. Here, I shall help you." As he had done time and time again in the past few weeks that he had spoon fed the child, Achilles carefully filled the spoon and blew upon the hot vapours to cool it, ensuring that the broth was not scalding before offering it to the girl who quickly caught on, her eyes always following his every movement and meeting his gaze rather fearlessly. For the moment she was quiet, not making another sound as she ate for she was too hungry to consider anything else, but once all the broth was eaten and the bread also used to mop up the remaining juices in the bottom of the bowl, Mélanie turned once more to the man who seemed to be a kind and gentle person and reached out to tug upon his sleeve.

"Maman? Papa? Où sont ma maman et papa?"

"I don't know what you're trying to say, child. Something about your parents?" Achilles guessed, recognising the words referring to a mother and father at the very least, and felt an ache within as he wondered how he was going to tell this child that her parents were most likely dead. "Listen…I can't say for certain, but it is likely that they're not here anymore. At the very least, they could be lost at sea, I doubt that they would have also managed to have survive a wreck like that." Looking down upon the girl's blank expression, Achilles knew then that everything he said to her was pointless, because she could not understand a single word he was saying. He grunted to himself in frustration. After clearing away the utensils for the food, Achilles decided to attempt to at least communicate on some level with the child. At the very least she seemed bright and attentive, he expected that the moment she would wake up she would cry and scream in fear and confusion, but thus far, she had remained perfectly lucid, as if she had slept and slept until her body was completely recovered so not a hint of illness or tiredness remained, save for the withdrawn appearance of her features and severely thin body that exposed every bone in her body, she seemed as perky and bonny as could be. Achilles had paid attention to her watching him, and although he could not understand her words, he could read her eyes. She had shown no fear when faced with him, in fact she had merely seen slightly curious, but not overly intrigued. Her eyes had darted about the room to take in her surroundings, then maintained a fixed focus all the while she had supped. There was intelligence there, of that much, Achilles was certain. So once he had cleared up and sat himself back down upon his chair, the girl had faced him directly, quiet as a mouse, with eyes that seemed to light up her surroundings, and began to attempt a conversation of simple words and various hand gestures in order to at the very least introduce one to the other. "Achilles." He began, placing his hands upon his chest to signify himself. "Achilles. Achilles Davenport."

"Davenport?" Repeating the word that sounded the easiest to replicate, Mélanie observed an expression of gladness upon the strange man's face at her success. He nodded his head and spoke to her again, possibly to tell her that she was right before repeating the same words again. "A…Ah-kee-les…"

"No, pronounce it like this. Ah-kill-ees. You try now." This one took several more attempts until Mélanie could confidently repeat the name in her cheerful accent, chanting them over and over again as the words seemed to now just roll off her tongue.

"Achilles Davenport. Vous es Achilles Davenport. C'est bon! J'aime ton nom." Slowing her down before she could run away with herself, Achilles made calming motions and hushed her firmly, fearing that too much excitement may yet cause the fever to resurge and take hold once again. Signalling that he had introduced himself, Achilles then pointed at the child to tell her that he now wanted to know her name. "Moi? Je m'appelle Mélanie Basset. Mélanie. Mélanie Basset." Speaking slowly and surely in order to properly convey her name to Achilles, the older man quickly picked it up.

"Mélanie? Your name is Mélanie?" Hearing her name being repeated, Mélanie eagerly nodded her head.

"Oui, oui mon nom est Mélanie." Glad that he could now put a name to the girl's face, Achilles spent the next few hours sitting with her teaching her some basic English so that she could at least ask him for things or explain herself in some ways. In return, Mélanie seemed to decide that it was only right and fair that if she was making the effort to learn an entire new language, daunting as it was, then her host should also learn hers. So every time Achilles taught her a new word, Mélanie would teach him its equivalent in French and would not give in or allow him to move on until he had repeated the word several times to show that he was also trying to learn. Achilles soon learned that little Mélanie had a wickedly sharp tongue for one who had been on death's door just a few hours previous. He could make not make hide nor hair of what came out of her mouth, but he always knew when he was being thoroughly scolded for something or other. She was fiery and fierce, which was probably the reason why she was still alive and not drowned at the bottom of the ocean somewhere, or lying cold as death waiting for the fever to consume her. Mélanie had a passion for living, and soon enough it was everything Achilles could do simply to keep her on bed rest. Determined as she was, Mélanie wanted to explore and stretch her legs, to view the house that she was presently staying within and to see the world that lay beyond the windows and doors. Through no lack of hard work, Achilles managed to persuade Mélanie that she was required to stay in bed until she was stronger, and in return he would sometimes bring her to a different room to view where he could keep an eye upon her and ensure that she remained warm. Winter had settled in early this year, meaning that thick blankets of snow had already settled upon the banks of the homestead and Achilles did not trust that for all of Mélanie's energy, she was not still vulnerable to a second illness.

Sometimes at night she would become a little feverish if she attempted too much in one day, such as trying to climb the stairs by herself, or helping in the kitchen with the cooking, but Achilles was unable to stop her at all. It were almost as if she were determined to prove to herself that she was still alive, and that meant doing everything she could to get herself back onto her feet just the way she had been before. Still, Achilles was glad for her company, especially in the evenings where he would assume his seat at her bedside and read to her from one of his many books where she would hang from his every word until her eyes drooped and she would naturally slide down into sleep. Then he would tuck her in, wish her goodnight and ensure that the fire was well stocked before then going to sleep himself, though he was never far from her. He could no longer manage the stairs in any case, and his chair was just as comfortable as any other so for now it sufficed.

Before he had even realised, three months had passed since Mélanie had become his patient and then his guest, with the snows building up into mountains of white outside the house where Achilles would go out each morning to shovel it away and toss it over the cliff to keep the pathways and the stables clear. All the while Mélanie would watch wistfully from the window, though never taking a step outside. She knew that the snow would be cold, and considering how warm it was inside the house, she had no intention of willingly going out into such frosty temperatures, nor could she understand why anyone would want to. It was safer inside, and Mélanie was patient enough to wait all the way until the new season before she could go outside to play. So instead she would watch Achilles from the window, pondering on what they might do in the afternoon once he was finished. She had already begun to prepare their noontime meal, having familiarised herself with the kitchen and knowing her way about it for her maman had taught her since she could sit upright how to bake and cook well. It was then that Mélanie's thoughts would turn darker, wondering where her parents could be and why they had not come to fetch her. Surely the snow had just waylaid them. Yes, that must be the case. Once the snow melts, they will come for her and she will ask Monsieur Davenport ever so nicely if they could all live together.

Mélanie could see that the old man struggled with his leg which never seemed to get better no matter how many times she tried to offer him something to heal it, wanting to use the medicines that he had already used on her to make her own ills better. Perhaps it was something that could not be healed? There was a crippled boy back in her village who had been struck by a horse whilst small and never recovered. The boy had walked with a hunch ever since and could not use one arm properly. Mayhap it was like that. If that were the case, then perhaps Monsieur Davenport would welcome the extra help. After all, her papa was very strong and used to working the fields, and was also excellent with horses, whilst her maman could cook homely food and sew the old man's aging clothes, and finally someone might tackle all the dust in this house.

Running her finger over the windowsill, a thick smudge of dust stuck to her skin as if to prove her own point. She would help too, of course. She would learn how to be useful, whatever the old man needed. She could gather herbs from the forest and learn how to hunt or fish. She could fetch firewood and play games with the monsieur until he would doze off in his chair in the evening. He would have company. Surely he would like that? Mélanie endeavoured to be on her very best behaviour and to do everything she possibly could in order to get Monsieur Davenport to like her, so that he would want her to stay and live with him and her parents. With such a determination in mind, she swiftly set about finding a cloth and dampened it with water before beginning to tackle the mountain of dust that had been left untouched for the better part of two years.


Es-tu Dieu? – Are you God?

Pour moi? – For me?

Maman? Papa? Où sont ma maman et papa? – Were are my mama and papa?

Vous es Achilles Davenport. C'est bon! J'aime ton nom – You are Achilles Davenport. It's good! I like your name.

Moi? Je m'appelle Mélanie Basset – Me? My name is Mélanie Basset

Oui, oui mon nom est Mélanie – Yes, yes my name is Mélanie