The broken she-wolf - Healed by innocence

Keepsakes

*Lillian*

I didn’t mean to pry. I retrieve Blaise Moonshadow's saddlebags aiming to find if he has other clothes to wear. My search halts the moment I uncover his treasured keepsake.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the tub of steaming water, I stroke the locks of auburn hair he has bound together with a white velveteen ribbon. I have little doubt the silken strands once belonged to his beloved Olivia. When I hold them up to the early morning sunlight filtering through the window, they turn a warm shade of red, unlike my own hair, which holds no color at all.

I reason that he possessed the precious memento before he went to prison. I can't envision him requesting the hair of a woman who had married another. When I bring the hair beneath my nose, I smell the fading fragrance of vanilla mingling with a scent that I recognize as belonging to the man lying in my bed. After tending him through the night, I have become familiar with many aspects of his person.

I wonder how long he has possessed the token of his heart’s desire and marvel at so great a love that even now he would not part with a portion of the she-wolf who had betrayed him.

“What are you doing?”

I release a tiny screech at the rumble of the angry voice and shove the lock of hair back into the saddlebag before glancing over my shoulder. Blaise Moonshadow has risen up on an elbow, his blue penetrating gaze pinning me to the spot.

“Nothing. I... I washed your clothes this morning and then it occurred to me that you wouldn’t have anything to wear. Since your fever broke near dawn, I thought you might want a bath.” I slap my trembling hand against the wooden tub to emphasize my good intentions. I hold up his saddlebag. “I was looking to see if you had some clean clothes.”

His eyes narrow with suspicion. “I do.”

“Oh, good.” I shove myself to my feet and set the saddlebag on the foot of the bed, certain he wouldn’t appreciate knowing what I had found. “Do you feel strong enough to manage on your own?”

“I’m willing to give it a try.” He says.

I nod, “I’ll start cooking breakfast.”

*Blaise*

I watch the she-wolf scurry from the room like a frightened rabbit. I don’t have anything in my possession worth stealing, and even if I did, I don’t think Lillian Greenmedow is one to steal. Despite her wariness, she has been generous toward me… offering food, shelter, and aid when she could just as easily have left me to suffer alone. Still, I have had little privacy in the past few years and I covet it now.

I feel like a man who has downed three bottles of cheap whiskey without taking a breath in between. I roll to a sitting position, every muscle and bone in my body protesting the movement. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and take a moment to catch my breath. My gaze falls on my boots… polished to a shine… standing at attention beside the rocking chair. Good Goddess, how am I going to pay this she-wolf back for all she has done since my arrival?

I shove myself to my feet. A wave of weakness assails me and I close my eyes, willing myself to stand.

With the movements of an old man who has been thrown off a horse one too many times, I pad to the bathtub. The she-wolf has thought of everything. I sink into the heavenly warmth, letting it soak days of dirt and grime from my body. Leaning back, I close my eyes. Moments woven through the night fill my mind like an elaborate tapestry. Soft touches over my fevered brow. Cool water gliding down my scorched throat. A gentle voice offering reassurance.

And tears. My tears. I groan. Whatever possessed me to ask the she-wolf about Olivia? Bowing my head, I dig my fingers into the sides of the tub. Thoughts of Olivia have filled my mind, my heart from the first moment my gaze fell upon her seven years before. She is as much a part of me as my name.

A name that might have cost me her love.

Using the hard lye soap, I scrub unmercifully at my face and body and wash my hair. The pain still throbs through my back, but not nearly as much as it had the day before. I had been a fool to leave home without seeing that it was properly tended by a physician, but then I seem to have gained a knack for being a fool.

I bring myself to my feet and dry off. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I walk to the bed and remove my shaving equipment from my saddlebag. I amble to the she-wolf’s dresser and study my reflection in the mirror.

I haven’t really taken the time to look at myself since I left prison. I am suddenly hit with the hard realization that I have aged more than either of my brothers. Deep crevices fan out from the corners of my eyes. The wind, rain, and sun have worked together to wear away, shape, and mold the face of a boy into the hardened visage of a man. I hardly recognize myself and I miss the laughing blue eyes that always looked back at me.

I drop my chin to my chest and release a heavy sigh. Of all the things that have changed, I hate most of all that I have changed… inside and out. I am as much a stranger to myself as I am to the she-wolf preparing me breakfast.

Moving her hairbrush, comb, and hand mirror aside, I set my shaving box on the dresser. Using the warm water she has left in the bowl, I stir up some lather for my face, my gaze lighting upon all the little gewgaws scattered over her dresser.

I stop stirring and trail my fingers over a smooth wooden box. Embedded in the wood is a silhouette of a violin. I shift my gaze to the door. She’s pried into my belongings...

Gingerly I touch the lid of the box and slowly lift it. Music tinkles out. I slam the lid closed. A music box.

Shaking my head, I set about shaving several days' growth of beard from my face. Then I pull fresh clothes from my saddlebags, step into my trousers, and pull on my boots. Grabbing my shirt and a towel, I walk to the door and quietly open it.