2 April 1633

I might start teaching Meulin to hunt soon. She's thirteen, and while I was much older than that when I started hunting, I didn't have to until I was older. I want her to be in good practice when she has no choice, rather than trying desperately to not die of hunger. I want them to have choices.

I'm a little worried about Nepeta. Meulin wants to be the midwife; it's something she likes doing. She loves helping me work. Nepeta doesn't at all. But I need to give her choices, and the only thing I can think to do is teach her to sew so she can be a seamstress like I was.

I'll do as much as I can to teach her everything I know about sewing, and embroidering, and all that. She'll have choices.

5 April 1633

I told Nepeta today that I wanted to teach her to sew better. She said she liked sewing, so that's something. I didn't tell her that I need to teach her something so the world can't beat her down like they did to the women I met, because she's only nine, but I'm sure she can tell I'm tense about this. They're clever, my girls.

I also want to teach them things from books, things like physics and philosophy and mathematics and literature. I loved learning things when I was their age. I still do, even if my motivation these days is nonexistent.

Well, they stay home and read some days. Meulin loves going into the village, but she'll bring home friends and they'll all read together. Nepeta and Equius will also read together in the library. The two of them don't read quite the same things, being four years apart and all, but they both have their groups of friends. I'm just glad they have friends.

10 April 1633

Ten years ago today I thought we were going to make it. I believed with all my heart that my love was right, and we'd win. We all sat around the kitchen table and planned out what we'd do, and we thought we couldn't lose.

We were so stupid. How could we ever have thought the king would listen, if only there were enough people with us? How could we ever have believed that this could end without bloodshed? My love could convince anyone of anything, but I don't know how he managed to convince himself that this was going to end any other way.

Simonn knew. Why did he even come with us when he knew how this was going to end? How could he have left me alone like this?

16 April 1633

Simonn thought we'd make it easier for the next generation of people like us. He thought that there'd be someone else like my love. There's no one like him. He believed this rotten old world was good, and everyone in it was good. He believed I of all people was a good person, and anyone who can believe that is someone special indeed.

He died ten years ago today. Ten years ago today, I buried him in the clearing, saw his face for the last time. He was so broken, by the end. His eyes were all purple and swollen, and his nose was broken, and his fingers were broken all over like mine. And his leg…my goodness, his leg. It was almost worse than Simonn's eyes. I don't know why they cut it off or why or what they did with it, but it was so terrifying to see.

I miss him. I love him, and sometimes I wish I just had someone to talk to. I think if I had even just one person still with me, I might be alright. Or, at least, I might not feel right on the edge of dying every morning.

I swore to him I wouldn't, and now I have my girls. I can't kill myself. I can't.

17 April 1633

Yesterday was two years since I found my Meulin in that alley. To think, I was going to die that day.

23 April 1633

Meulin brought over Damara and Horuss today, and my goodness, they look like my old friends. I remember when Damara was born; I was there. I remember Hannah telling me our daughters would be friends and they'd never know we were friends; I remember her (him? I'm not sure now, since I haven't seen Hannah in so long) telling me our daughters would be important.

I hope my little girls are important. I want them to lead lives with actual happiness, not the complacent content of living the life the world wants of you.

On the other hand, I tried to be important, and look where that landed me.

29 April 1633

Nepeta didn't have a good day today. She woke up quite cross and when I asked her what was wrong, she didn't answer. Meulin tried to coax her into eating, but she refused, and she just sat in the library rubbing her thumb over the cover of an old book for a long time.

So I sat on Dolora's chair, near to her, for a while, until she could talk again.

"What's wrong, Nepeta?"

"Bad dream," she said.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

She shook her head. "Mama, do you love me?"

"Of course I do, Nepeta. I love you so much."

"And Meulin?"

"I love your sister too."

"And you're not going to send us back to our parents?"

"Of course not, Nepeta." I knew she was having nightmares like I used to, of my family leaving me behind for someone or something better. I don't know why they didn't, really. Sigmun anyways deserved someone better than me for a wife.

I didn't say any of that. Instead I said, soft as I could, "Nepeta, you are very dear to me. My…my mother was not a very nice woman, and so my husband's mother took care of me. Now, I'm going to take care of you."

"I love you, Mama," she said.

"I love you too," I promised.

4 May 1633

It's getting warm out. It's too late for that, and I think the harvest will be bad again this year. I'm lucky we've never farmed. The garden doesn't care much about the weather; it's too small. And with Meulin helping me, it's in as good shape as when it was Dolora's.

I can't believe I turn thirty-eight this year. I'm getting so old.

10 May 1633

Jane had her baby today, and thank heaven, it went well. I couldn't handle another failure right now.

15 May 1633

I was awake last night when I heard footsteps in the hall, and I put away the drawings Simonn made when we were young so I could comfort my daughter, but I heard Meulin's door open instead.

"Meulin, I can't sleep."

"Wanna sleep here tonight, Kitty?"

"Yes."

"Alright.

That was all, but I'm worried about them. Meulin wasn't asleep, and Nepeta couldn't sleep. I don't want them to have the nightmares I've had my entire life, and I don't want them to feel the way I did when I was young. But I don't know how to stop them. I could never control my own nightmares, much less anyone else's.

I'll see if I can mix up a tea for the nightmares. I can test it on myself, and if it works I can offer it to my girls. I suppose I'll start with chamomile and valerian, and maybe some of the St. John's wort.

My goodness, I'm turning into Dolora. Although this time it might be for the better.

23 May 1633

I've been trying some various formulations on myself and I think I have a mix that's working. I have been having fewer nightmares, and I don't wake up unable to move so often. In March in 1614, the valerian worked decently well, and mixed with the other ingredients, I think it's helping.

I can ask my girls if they're still having nightmares, and if they are, maybe I can give them some of the tea. Maybe with less of the St. John's wort, though. They are only children, and that's one of those medicines Dolora mostly gave to adults.

29 May 1633

I asked my girls today if they were having nightmares, separately. They both said yes, so after dinner I brewed up some tea for them and for me, mine with more St. John's wort (they're children, after all). I hope they sleep better. I hope this helps.

3 June 1633

It's been helping them, thank goodness. They both told me they're having almost no nightmares, and it's been helping me too. The fewer nightmares, the better.

It's probably for the better that my girls don't know about this sort of thing. I don't tell them about my nightmares or my melancholy or all the terrible things that brought me here. It's good that they don't know these things, and they never will.

10 June 1633

It's nice when it's warm out. I'm always cold, so it's good to be warm on the outside. And my girls love playing outside. Sometimes they'll stay home and we'll all sit on the grass in front of the house and make flower crowns. Meulin sometimes complains she's too old, but she'll sit and play anyways. They're like angels, sometimes, sitting there among the flowers. The sun is like a halo, and the light in the dust could be wings. And when the two of them smile up at me, I feel blessed.

I love my daughters so much. They are just so wonderful. Sometimes, when I go with Meulin and Nepeta to the front of the house and sit with them and make flower crowns and tell stories, I'm not sure how I ever felt melancholy.

18 June 1633

Today would be Simonn's thirty-eighth birthday. I'm sure by now I'd be teasing him about getting old, and he'd be teasing me right back. Dolora would say how she's older than both of us, but she'd smile fondly. She'd be in her fifties now! We'd be taking care of her! In a perfect world, we'd have Luke, too, and he'd be…oh, my, sixteen. He'd be getting old enough to have his own job, and maybe he'd be courting someone in town (woman or man, I wouldn't care if they made him happy).

I'd never give up my daughters, though. Not for anything. I hope that somehow, I'd still have them. Or they'd still have me.

24 June 1633

I wonder what it'd be like if my love and family were here with my daughters. My goodness, they'd be so loved in this house. I'm not enough but with my first family, I would be.

I don't usually bring Meulin with me to births, in case something goes wrong, but I'll let her help with other parts of my work. When I'm not working or cooking or doing other chores, I teach Nepeta to sew.

It's alright, for now. Button seems happy, too. Maybe it's because I've stopped pushing her off when she meows at me late at night. I don't know where she picked up the concept of bedtime, but she can be awfully insistent about it when she wants to.

It's a good thing I have a cat, I think.

30 June 1633

My girls are getting so much taller! I thought Meulin was only ten when I found her, and now she's tall enough to be sixteen. Nepeta's a bit shorter, like me, but she's still growing like mad. Before I know it they'll be as tall as I am!

I remember when I was first growing, and I hate so much how I looked. I hope they never feel that way; it's awful. I want the best for them, and they should be allowed to love themselves. Maybe they can avoid the melancholy that's been crushing me since I was old enough to understand my mother's harsh words.

I hope so.