A/N: Another chapter of Cowpie! Little heads up: I've been posting this on the Helix website (committed.to/helix). Remember the little
'bonuses' I was talking about? Yup...next chapter. Chapter 7 will have a NC-17 bonus listed on the website. It makes no difference to the plot,
so it is optional to read or not. I will put a review form on there as well so it is not linked to . This message will be on Chapter 7 as well.

ALSO NOTE: Do not be alarmed, I am not doing it again. I can say this much without giving the plot away--this will not be a babyfic, I promise.
I had a stern talk with my plotmunster, and I told it very strictly that I would not be doing it again, after having written two already (Vol 1 and Vol 2).

And, fear not, though you may assume it's going to be all lah-dee-dah floofy, it's not. Strong plot to this thing.

08)


(Volume: 1 Chapter: 6)

Chapter 6: life

He was awoken the next morning, not to the rooster, but to a sudden absence at his side. He sat up; the top of Laura's head was just disappearing
down the ladder. He laid back; of course she had to return, she didn't want her mother suspecting anything. Not that much had happened—they'd
done some gentle exploring—kissing—but he was afraid. He didn't want to do anything she wasn't ready for; so eventually he'd pulled her against his
side, letting her rest her cheek on his bare chest. He didn't regret it, though—he'd felt her curves pressing up against him, and that had been enough.
He'd stroked her hair, admiring how soft and smooth it was—sleek. Yes, that was a word to describe Laura. A good word. She was sleek, feline-like;
he'd watched her sleep for a bit, and had noted her slightly slanted eyes and the way she pouted when unconscious.

"Ba-KAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWK!"

The rooster had jumped up on his chest and caught him by surprise.

"OFF!" he snapped, pushing the bird away.

At the breakfast table, Sarah served pieces of toasted bread with cheese and venison from last night's supper, noting quietly the fact that Laura was
glancing at their guest again, smiling shyly. She wondered if her daughter was aware of what she was feeling, and thought back to the odd questions
Laura had 'asked' her, before the…moon cycle. She'd even run out of hand gestures to describe her questions, and had been frustrated, throwing down
her needlework and running outside, her boots clomping on the wooden floor.

From what Sarah could gather, the questions had been about Julian…or boys in general. She had tried to explain—gently—and without sounding too stern,
too afraid, of what was occurring. She herself was terrified—Laura was all she had. If this stranger was to take her from her? But then, she would only live
so long herself, and then there would be no one to care for her daughter. She hadn't too many years left. She had a cough in the winters that kept getting
worse with every year. So she'd explained her daughter to the boy, laying a foundation. Ground work, with the idea that he might grow to care for Laura, if
he understood her. She had noticed Laura's absences in the evening—time she usually spent knitting by the fire—and thought she knew where she might be
going. She said nothing, afraid to discourage it, at the same time as she feared Laura might harm herself. It was probably time to have a talk with her daughter.

"Mr. Keller, if thou would be kind and refill the woodshed," Sarah said softly. Laura moved to get up too, probably hoping to be alone with him again; she laid
her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Laura…thou must stay, I need thy help."

Julian glanced at her daughter discreetly as he stood up; she had watched him, out of the corner of her eye. Something had definitely transpired between
them; his expression was not too unlike the one her husband James used to give her—eighteen years ago, now.

"Laura," she said, a few moments after the door had closed and she'd seen Julian pass the window. She pulled out a chair and sat down, fixing her gaze on her
daughter, who was looking curiously at her mother. "I've seen you oft glance at our guest."

Laura flushed slightly.

"It's natural, Laura. I…I am not one to criticize. While I do not want thou to be immoral, I understand the feelings that a woman has. Your father and I…were
rare, in a world of pre-arranged marriages for gain. I am a devout Christian; but does not the Bible speak of love and devotion between a man and a woman?"

Laura flushed harder, her cheeks burning pink. She fingered the tablecloth with its embroidered rabbits. She'd made it when she was seven years old, as a
birthday present for Sarah (whom had loved it).

"I speak, not to embarrass thou, but to arm thou with information. Thou must know that certain actions…come with certain consequences." She cleared her
throat and briefly explained to Laura where babies came from. Her daughter's eyes widened; then she pushed back her chair and ran out the door, her hand
over her mouth. Sarah briefly worried that Laura had already done something…but she trusted her daughter. And Julian, although she did not know much of
him, seemed decent enough.

Julian climbed the ladder, thinking it was odd that Laura hadn't shown up, as per usual, to watch him wash. He'd been hoping…he could get used to a repeat
of last night. For some reason, he was just content to touch her…he didn't need anything else, for the moment. It was odd because he was the same man
that had been almost desperate to get Sofia Mantega in his bed.

The avoiding behavior continued. Laura wouldn't look at him at breakfast; she didn't show up at any of the usual places their paths crossed. Finally he decided
to seek her out; he found her picking berries in the woods, a little ways from the cottage. The rabbit was at her bare feet; he watched Laura for a while.

Every now and then she bent over and fed it a berry.

She tensed suddenly and looked over her shoulder towards him. She set down her basket and reached for her boots, beside the bush.

"No…Laura…" he called. "What's going on?"

She wrinkled her nose at him as he approached. He ignored this gesture, moving forward until he was in front of her. He reached out to brush a lock of hair out
of her face; she pulled back, her eyes wide.

"Laura."

She flushed, then made a couple of motions. He frowned, not understanding. She'd taught him a tiny bit of her sign language—not much but enough for
rudimentary communication—but this was too complex for him. He wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Huh?" he asked.

Laura sighed. Then she…she pointed. At him. Then at herself. And then made a rocking motion with her arms.

A moment of panic washed over him—followed by relief. "Laura…we didn't do anything," he said soothingly, touching her chin. "What would make you think
something like that?"

Laura looked towards the cottage.

"Oh, HAHA!" Julian started laughing. "She gave you the talk! And you totally didn't get it! Laura…there's something else you have to do to, uh, have…that.
I'm sure you've seen animals do…something like it."

Laura stared at him like he was an alien. He grinned, took her hand and pressed it against his pants in a particular area. She jerked it back like he had burned her,
and he laughed again.

"You certainly haven't touched that. So I wouldn't worry."

She watched him uncertainly. The rabbit head-butted her in the ankle, wishing for another berry, and reluctantly she turned away to provide.

Julian was drifting off to sleep, having decided that Laura wasn't coming, when a soft scuffle at the ladder caught his attention. He glanced; she was staring
at him, her eyes just above the floorboards. He rolled and propped himself up on his elbow, patting the straw mattress beside him.

Laura pulled herself over the lip and stood for a second, playing with edge of her wrap; she pulled it off suddenly and moved towards him, smiling slightly. She
kneeled on the pad, watching him intently. Julian found himself smiling, too, a little bit. He reached up and ran his fingers down the side of her face, then pulled
her down to meet him. His other arm went around her and he explored her mouth, both making soft noises. He loved kissing her, he realized. She was intoxicating.
He'd never enjoyed anything so much—not even that night with Sofia had come anywhere near this.

He finally pulled away and just watched her, both breathing hard. Her eyes looked glassy, and her lips were swollen, like his. He stroked her hair softly, admiring
how it shown in the dark. Laura watched him, too, her eyes exploring. She was becoming bolder with every day.

He touched her throat, wishing she would speak to him. He wondered what her voice was like—it was probably sweet, from the laughter he'd heard. He couldn't
imagine anything about her not being so.

Laura tilted her head so her cheek pressed against his hand—like a kitten—then she surprised him; she wrapped her fingers around his and moved them lower,
to just above her breast. His breath hitched, and he stared at her.

Once more, he woke to the sound of Laura leaving, still fully clothed, and laid back on the straw, patting himself on the back. It was getting more difficult to turn
her down. About three weeks had passed—since he'd 'realized'—but it felt like a lifetime. A lifetime. That made him think about his ­other life—the life he'd left behind.
He hadn't thought of it, that much, in the past few days. He suddenly felt a surge of fear—what if they suddenly just pulled him away?

He couldn't forget Laura. He realized he was gripping straw from the mattress very hard for a sense of stability.

"Ba-KAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWK!"