Chapter 27: Turning a Hovel into a Home

They had been traveling for what felt like weeks, even though Saffron knew really it had only been a day or so. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could go on. While fall had only been creeping upon them at the camp, it now made its force fully known.
The horse plodded along in the quiet forest; fat flakes of snow drifted lazily from above. Wintry wind whispered through the trees, biting at their skin beneath their thin clothes. Saffron had to find shelter soon. Elric would not heal well in the back of a wagon; he needed hot food and a warm bed to heal the more serious of his injuries.
She led the horse to a small creek, breaking the cover of ice with the hilt of her dagger. She and the horse both drank thirstily, the water soothing her sore throat. She bent to fill her water skein when something caught her eye. Narrowing her eyes, she peered closer. It appeared to be a small cottage, just on the other side of the water. It seemed to be abandoned. Now she just had to find a way to get across the icy obstacle before her. After she secured the horse to a tree and made sure Elric was well covered, she explored.
A few feet down from where she stopped to drink, she found a small rickety bridge. She tested it with her weight. It would hold her, hopefully also the cart and horse. With a growing sense of trepidation, she returned with the horse and cart. As the horse's hooves began to clop across the planks, the bridge groaned beneath the weight. She needed to reach the cottage. Elric had to be shielded from winter’s wrath if he were to live.
Saffron took a deep breath and hurried. She swore she could feel the water licking at her heels as she ran, the cart bouncing behind her. She fell to her knees once the wheels of the cart crunched into the snow on the other bank, chest heaving. She stood on trembling legs and checked on Elric. He had been jostled a bit but was otherwise unharmed, still sleeping fitfully from the sleeping draught.
She led the horse to the front of the cottage, its warm breath puffing over her shoulder. She leaned against its neck for a moment, savoring the warmth and comfort of the creature. It nuzzled her back and began to chew on her braid. “I really should name you. How do you feel about Huxley?” she said, petting its velvet nose. He replied with a snort and continued mouthing the tip of her braid.
She tugged her hair from its mouth and walked closer to inspect the abandoned cottage. The roof was surprisingly sound, and it was relatively free from any rot. Whoever had built this had built it to last. She carefully pushed open the wooden front door. It was stuck. With a great heave of her shoulder, she was able to push it open.
It was a small one-room cottage. A large wooden bed sat in the far corner and a table and chairs sat opposite it. A small hearth littered with animal debris stood in the other corner. A small kitchen was set next to it. Saffron nearly gasped with joy when she saw the handle for a well. She loved, at that moment, whoever built this home. It had everything that they would need, including a cheerful albeit dusty rug in the center of the home. She breathed a sigh of relief.

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Saffron had quickly pulled the dusty bedding from the bed and tossed it onto the floor. She would wash it later. For now, she piled the furs onto the lumpy mattress and lay Elric down. He had woken for a moment when she was getting him out of the cart. He had blearily walked into the cottage; confusion was strewn across his face until she got him settled into bed. He had drifted off shortly after, his body relaxing into the softness of the bed.
While he slept, Saffron turned the abandoned hovel into a home. She found a broom behind the door and set to work, dislodging irritated spiders from their homes and shooed chittering mice from their nest in the hearth. She was soon covered in a layer of dirt and grime, but she felt good to be able to actually do something.
She scrubbed the floor, bringing the wooden planks back to life. She hauled the rug outside and beat it with a branch, a cloud of dust getting carried away on the wind. There was a small hut outback, large enough for one horse. She ensured that Huxley had enough hay to eat. He had snorted at the slightly moldy bale but still ate it begrudgingly.
When Elric awoke a few hours later, the last vestiges of the sleeping draught leaving his veins, a fire burned in the hearth. Confused he sat up, the pain in his side duller than before. The last thing he had recalled was being in the cart, watching as the snow had fallen onto his face. Now he was in a house?
He looked around. It was small. Just one room, it appeared. Where was Saffron? “Saffron?” he croaked; his voice rough from disuse. Nothing. His heart began to pound. Where was she? Had something happened? He pushed himself from the bed, though his legs wavered beneath him.
“Saffron!” he called louder. The front door swung open and she strode in, her arms laden with a stack of firewood. She dropped them near the hearth and rushed to him.
“What are you doing up?” she scolded and pushed him to sit. He folded easily and sat down.
“I didn’t know where you were…where are we?” he asked, looking around.
“Home. For now.”