Page 54 of The Knucker King

Bramble’s snores interrupted her spinning mind. The Grim slept near the hearth, and even Ashling dozed amongst the coals. She smiled at the pair; it had been a long night.

“Little witch, are you alright?” Trewoofe asked.

“Not really,” she admitted as she swept her hand around the room. “I do not even know where to begin.” Trewoofe flung himself forward and vomited into the cauldron again. “Well, with that I suppose.”

Chamomile to soothe the stomach.

Avice squinted up to the beams to see if the tiny, dried flowers had survived the assault of Trewoofe’s horns. Spotting them, she dragged over a chair and climbed up.

“Be careful,” Trewoofe murmured, watching her from the pallet.

She dipped her chin down at him. “I will.”

Avice began to pluck blossoms from the hanging bundle while holding up the hem of her dress, using it to catch the flowers. She leapt down from the chair and landed neatly.

The thud must have woken Bramble, as his head popped up. Avice, are you well?

“As well as we can be,” she replied.

She fetched an alternate copper cauldron from beside the hearth, her injured arm protesting at the weight. She dropped the chamomile flowers in and then stepped over to her stored healing water. Avice filled the cauldron with ladle after ladle, then added a dollop of her dwindling honey for good measure. Her nostrils flared appreciatively at the floral scent.

“Trust me to bring home a Knucker with a sweet tooth,” she mumbled.

“What was that?” Trewoofe asked.

Avice glanced over her shoulder at him and grinned. “Nothing!”

Bramble nosed at her, seeking attention, as she hung the tea cauldron over the dozing Wisp. She roughed Bramble’s ears before turning her attention back to the embers.

She crouched over and whispered into the glow, “Ashling?”

A sleepy chime replied, and the Faerie floated up.

“I know we had a long night. I am sorry to wake you so early, but I was hoping you would make some tea?” she asked. “It is for our guest, he is unwell, and I think the way you make it will be just the thing the Well King needs to make him healthy again.”

Ashling flared proudly and dove back into the embers. Avice grinned down at him and dropped some more small logs for the Wisp to burn. She straightened, hands on her hips, trying to figure out what to do in the meantime. Her arm twinged, but she brushed it aside.

This place is a mess, the Grim complained. He sniffed the air. It also reeks.

“Yes, thank you, Bramble,” Avice tutted.

“I am sorry,” Trewoofe called from the bed, a flush of shame on his cheeks.

“It is alright,” she comforted, smiling down at him before returning her attention to what to do next.

She sniffed her sleeve and scrunched her nose, immediately wishing she had not. Clearly, what her familiar had meant was that she reeked. Her skin itched with grime, and she knew sooner or later she would have to attend to her own injured arm. She ran her eyes around the cottage, and her gaze was immediately drawn to the pile of dirty clothing by the door. Even if she did wash and change, she had nothing clean to wear – and certainly nothing that would fit Trewoofe.

“I wish I had bonded to a Brownie,” she grumbled, referring to the type of Good Neighbour known to happily help with housework in return for food.

Bramble’s head snapped up. What was that?

She grinned down at him. “I said, we are going to wash the clothes. Later, once the Lord feels better, I will also change the bedding.”

Ashling sang from the fire, alerting her that the tea was ready.

After slurping down the sweet, floral tree, Trewoofe thanked Avice. He then yawned widely, showing off his sharp fangs and forked tongue.

He is adorable half asleep. She smiled as his head bobbed. “Lie down,” she ordered, helping him ease back onto his side.