Porridge and Potatoes:
The crackle of rashers of bacon over the fire split the air like miniature firecrackers, giving the little cottage a festive air in the early hours just past dawn. Mairy twisted and turned efficiently in the little kitchen preparing the breakfast for herself and Thom, Conn weaving around her legs as if they had been performing the morning dance for ages. She hummed to herself, bubbling over with a joy that was just a bit brighter than it had been the day before. She really could not say if it was because her man was home or because she had found a great comfort in the large blonde beasty that eased beside her in the small space. She supposed it did not matter much as they were much one and the same, coming together as they had. That other hound, the grey, was more of a puzzle. He was no complaint, that she would give him. He had lain quietly enough the night before at the hearth's edge, but come dawn's light he had paced at the door until she had finally let him out. It was odd to have a hound press to get out of the house like that, unless he had business to attend to. Most of the hounds knew well enough what a fine measure it was to be given a seat at the master's table, yet the grey simply did not seem to care. He just wanted to be out and he had not wandered back to the door, no, he most certainly had not. When she had gone to look for him, she had found him with his muzzle pressed up against the pen, nose to nose with Cait. If she didna' know better, she would have sworn the young hound was swooning over the she-hound. In the end she had let him into the pen, and there he still was, side-by-side with Cait, and seeming quite happy about it. She stirred the oats and flipped the bacon, patting Conn on the head absentmindedly as she did so. This blonde was much more a comfort. She would have to ask Thom if she might keep him with her until the next hunt. She knew he didna' care for the hounds to be singled out, but the company was good for her.
She sliced the tomatoes and grilled them lightly in the grease from the rashers, then fried up the eggs quickly and plated the breakfast. It was good timing, too, as Thom came through the door to clean up just as the plates slid to the table. That was her Thom, he always did manage to slide in just in time for the meal. She slid her hands down her apron and smiled. It was a good if solitary life she had. She looked at Conn and gave him a quick hard ruffle on the ears, a very good life indeed. They ate in relative silence, only the pace of the fork and the spoon on plate and bowl letting her know the food was appreciated and enjoyed. When he had finished, Thom collected the plates and took them into the kitchen. It was one of the small things he did for Mairy that he knew she truly appreciated. He scraped off the bits that were left into a small bowl and set them down for Conn. "Seems like ye've gotten yer'self an admirer, Conn," smiled Thom. "Guess ye'll be getting the leavin's from here on out." The hound sat back on its haunches and looked at the man, waiting for permission to approach the bowl. "Here now, it's yours, come and get it," and with that Conn moved over with smooth agility to quickly consume the snack. Thom took the opportunity to run his calloused hand along the hound's back, feeling the rough hair that made up the darker ridge along its spine. "He's a fine hound, Mairy."
"Aye, that he is. Will ye be okay with his stayin in with me then?"
"I wasna' sure ye would be givin me a choice in the matter," he replied with a crooked grin. "Ye know it's better when they all stay together, but this one here is a mite special. Ye might want to check on the grey now and again, but keep him with ye if you will. 'Tis only a couple of days til we'll be off for the hunt. We don't have nearly enough laid in yet." He turned then and, lifting his jacket off the hook, slipped out the door.
Conn glanced up as the door closed and moved his gaze to Mairy, his eyes a brooding mix of inquiry and support. She gave a quick laugh, "Don't go fretting, Master Conn, ye have yer place by the fire, at least til the hunt." She moved to the dishes and quickly had them sorted out. She thought about setting the bread to rise, but decided on a cup of tea and a bit of reading first. Settling in the chair near the hearth she put her book in her lap and held her cup thoughtfully. She was very surprised to find Conn with his large head looming just near her shoulder, looking for all the world as if he were reading the page along with her. She shook her head clear of the fantasy and pushed his head away from her shoulder. The hound walked around and nudged the book with its nose toward her. She looked at him askance. He continued to lift it with his nose just a bit as if encouraging her to read. Finally, she lifted the book and began to read aloud. Conn circled around several times and settled with his head over his outstretched paws, eyes fixed on her face. It was unnerving at the beginning. It truly was, but then it was rather thrilling to have another being there with her, enjoying the story with her. She loved Gulliver's Travels; she could only begin to imagine what Conn was hearing, perhaps he just liked the lilt of her voice.
She read on far longer than she had intended, realizing far too late that she had missed the time and would have to make do with day-old biscuits for the noon supper. She set about putting the food together, mumbling under her breath the items she would need for this and for that. It was as she was getting the stew set that she realized she had not brought up enough potatoes for the pot she was making. She set to cutting the carrots and grumbled about the lack of body the stew would have without the extra starch. When she felt Conn pressing into her leg, she was out of sorts and almost gave him a good whack with the back of her hand. In fact, she had her hand up and had turned to take aim when she saw what he had in his maw and she dropped her knife right on the floor. The hound had gone down to the root-cellar and had three potatoes carefully balanced in its mouth, clearly making an effort not to press its sharp teeth into their tender flesh. The whoop of surprise that came out of her and the sound of the knife hitting the floor were so sudden and sharp she more than half expected Thom to come blasting through the door. She kneeled down and looked the hound straight in the eyes.
"There is a lot more to you then meets the eye, isn't there, Conn? I bet if ye could ye would share with Mairy what gives yer eyes that liquid lost look. I'd be after helping ye' if I had a clue, but seeing as I don't, I'll just thank ye for your kind service and promise ye some stew of yer own." Mairy let the hound drop the potatoes into her hands one by one, then she picked up her knife and cleaned them all as if everyday a person such as herself had her potatoes delivered by a hound.
With the stew on a slow fire, she went out for a walk-about with Conn. They strolled the area around the cottage, such as it was, and eventually made it over to the pen. She let out the hounds for a bit of a run. Coll and Conn rolled a bit together, obviously enjoying each other. There was definitely a connection there, that was certain. When Cait tried to join in the fray, the grey pulled back, delicately nipping and playfully coaxing but not rough-housing as he had with Conn. Conn himself simply withdrew and sat there watching as if he were the guardian of the pair. It dawned on her then that they were that, a pair, Cait and Coll had become, somehow, a pair. It was like a tale from the old-times, a yarn that her grandmother would have spun out over the fire. Two young and handsome creatures bound to each other with human emotions. She shook her head. She really was having a fanciful day, reading books aloud to hounds, getting potatoes delivered to her and now dreaming up a hound-romance. She had better get back to her stew and her day- old biscuits or she might just forget that she lived in the back of an old forest in a tiny cottage with only her man and a handful of hounds for company. With a wistful smile, she whistled the hounds into the pen and headed back to the house, happy to note that Conn remained at her heel.
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