"Monsieur, zis bad." Mélanie announced with a pout in her broken English as she frowned at the board before her, the game of chequers in which she was very sorely losing for what felt like the hundredth time. "Very bad."

"Yes, you are very bad at this game."

"Non! Game is bad! C'est terrible." Chuckling with amusement at her lively dissatisfaction of losing yet again as Achilles claimed her final piece, Mélanie made a very audible and loud outcry of frustration before planting her hands down on the table whilst glaring at him head on. "Again. On joue encore." That little spark behind her luminous green eyes was always a source of amusement for Achilles as he obligingly accepted the young girl's challenge to a rematch and reset the board that she might attempt once more for a victory. Where language had been a barrier, games had been a means to bond and converse with one another in a different way. Although now that the gap in their languages was steadily closing with each and every passing day, both Mélanie and Achilles enjoyed playing against one another. Achilles to see Mélanie struggle so desperately, and for Mélanie to strive to win just once, whether it was checkers, chess or any other game Achilles introduced to her.

Winter was close to ending with the first buds of spring beginning to emerge from the icy clutches of the frost and ice bitten trees, the great mounds of snow melting under the increasing warmth of the sun. It had been more than half a year since Mélanie had appeared at the homestead, and Achilles was beginning to wonder if it was time they braved a journey into Boston together. He still desired that a qualified doctor should check Mélanie's injuries to ensure that there would be no lasting repercussions, and it would also be prudent to find someone who spoke French in order to properly explain to her the situation she was in. Try as he might, there was very little Achilles could tell Mélanie in his broken French and her still limited understanding of English. She learned exceptionally quickly, but to teach her an entire language just to tell her that she was now nothing more than a lost orphan…Achilles could not bring himself to do it just for that purpose. So he taught her from the very beginning, starting with the basics and building up to more advanced sentences, teaching her how to read and write as well as how to understand grammar. He read to her from books about history and taught her mathematics, everything just to prolong the inevitable whereby he would also be forced to answer a question he had long since put the back of his mind. What will happen to her now? In truth, he was ill-equipped to look after her forever.

In this crumbling house with no one but an old man for company, she would become a starved and lifeless thing, trapped in a lonely forest with no one her own age to interact with. Achilles feared that if he kept her here, she would become like him, detached from the world and stuck in a perpetual loop of life that for him had only been overturned by her arrival. What would happen to her if he were to die and leave her alone here? No. He was too old and too crippled to be raising a child now, not to mention how others would look upon their relationship should he decide to keep her with him. In truth, many would see it as unnatural and may even decide to string him up for keeping a girl of her colour with a man of his in a big old house, just the two of them. Of course Achilles knew that Mélanie cared nothing for the hue of his skin, but this was mostly due to ignorance. What if she were to grow up and understand later how men such as he were treated? What if she turned her back on him too? Achilles was uncertain if he could take such a blow, for try as he might, he had grown steadily attached to the child.

Each morning he would wake up to see her still sleeping, peaceful and still, until she would awaken and blink her bleary eyes, rub them free of their drowsiness before then seeing him sitting beside her, whereby she would dazzle him with a radiant smile and greet him in either French or English, whichever struck her fancy that particular morning. She would always linger close to him, but never got underfoot. She would flit around like a little bird with that rag tucked up in her belt ready to wash or wipe something down, and had even taken to sweeping out the floors and cleaning the windows. Mélanie would then help cook for the both of them, though she had more or less claimed the kitchen as her own territory now to which Achilles would sit back and rest for a while whilst listening to her clattering away with pots and pans making food which was always far tastier than anything he ever managed to make. To his understanding, it was Mélanie's mother that had taught her how to cook, so she knew how to make soups and stews at the very least. Always she would say herbs would make the food tastier, but to Achilles, simply having someone accompany him during a meal made the food taste far better than when he used to eat alone. He welcomed the challenge of teaching her, and always enjoyed playing games with her at his desk where she had steadily improved as she learned the rules of engagement with increasing attentiveness and awareness.

Quite honestly, Achilles thought she was a marvel, and it pained him to think that soon they might be parting ways from one another. Still, he had to consider what was best for Mélanie. Perhaps he could use his contacts to ask them to find a suitable home for Mélanie with a good family that would look after her and love her like one of their own. She needed stability and a safe, nurturing environment. Something that Achilles knew he could not give. Having become completely lost in thought, it took a moment for Achilles to realise that Mélanie was calling to him softly, signalling that it was his turn to move. "Is monsieur alright? Monsieur face look very sad. Unhappy, yes? Mélanie lose again, Mélanie no mind." The subtle lilt of her accent made her words all the more entertaining as Achilles was roused from his thoughts to smile at her affectionately.

"Not at all, child. I was merely thinking about something. You should never choose to lose on purpose, unless there is something to be gained by it. You should always do your best in anything you set out to achieve, so do not pull back on my account. Let us see what you have learned." For a moment Mélanie frowned as whenever the monsieur used long, complicated sentences such as these, they often confused her as to what he was saying. To her, the English language was a rather fast-tongued one, so it was difficult to keep up even with the simplest of words, however she believed that she understood his general meaning, taken from the words she could understand as well as his kindly expression. He was telling her to keep trying and to do her best to win, so she nodded her head and focused all of her attention and energy upon the game.

She lost, of course, and rather dreadfully at that, but Mélanie remained undeterred and vowed that one day, she would not only beat the monsieur at this game, but at every game he had in this house just to prove to him that she could do it. Hearing a tap at the window, both Mélanie and Achilles looked up to see a bird had just settled there, the wing brushing against the panes and leaving tracks in the snow before it took off once more, drawing their attention now to the outside world. Green was steadily emerging from the bland blankets of white, buds and shrubs emerging once more from the barrenness of winter to promise spring in its full entirety to swiftly come to them all. "It is warmer." Mélanie announced thoughtfully, noticing how more birds could be heard these days than before.

"Yes." Achilles agreed, his face slackening once more into a vacant expression. "Spring is here."


Non…C'est terrible – No, it's terrible

On joue encore – We play again