Fia tried to normalize things as best as she could. She checked Kitty for bruises or sprains while she undressed her for a bath.
She had them all inside the tub, scrubbing them down with soapwort and inspecting them for lice. She explained that the Vikings liked their people clean, slave or not.
She occasionally looked over at the trunk, hoping he wouldn't come back, that the weight would be enough to hold him off if he did.
In her halting words, Fia asked the boy, "Why… you do… the thing?" She frowned knowing that wasn't quite correct, but learning a new language from what was essentially a baby, there wasn't much she could do.
The boy looked down at the soapy, cloudy water, "He was the one who killed our parents, and, uh…. You're not like them, either."
"Like?" Fia used a soft-bristle brush to scrub under Kitty's nails to remove the lingering dirt there, "I not. I come from… different place."
She passed the brush to the older girl and gestured to do the same.
"No," The boy said, "I mean, even the other slaves are mean to us. You've been nice to us, kind."
"Oh," Fia said softly and nodded. She looked at him, "Name, what is?"
"Duncan," He smiled and nodded to his sister, "She's Isobel, and Kitty's real name is Kathleen."
She smiled, "I like… the all names."
He wasn't unkind at her blundering through the words, "Thank you."
She pulled Kitty out of the tub, dried her, and helped dress her; all while the other two did the same by themselves.
She put them to bed, making up a story in Norwegian.
When they slept, she stayed up, her expression almost blank and her body so tired. But she couldn't sleep, not when she was so afraid that he might come back.
She had them all inside the tub, scrubbing them down with soapwort and inspecting them for lice. She explained that the Vikings liked their people clean, slave or not.
She occasionally looked over at the trunk, hoping he wouldn't come back, that the weight would be enough to hold him off if he did.
In her halting words, Fia asked the boy, "Why… you do… the thing?" She frowned knowing that wasn't quite correct, but learning a new language from what was essentially a baby, there wasn't much she could do.
The boy looked down at the soapy, cloudy water, "He was the one who killed our parents, and, uh…. You're not like them, either."
"Like?" Fia used a soft-bristle brush to scrub under Kitty's nails to remove the lingering dirt there, "I not. I come from… different place."
She passed the brush to the older girl and gestured to do the same.
"No," The boy said, "I mean, even the other slaves are mean to us. You've been nice to us, kind."
"Oh," Fia said softly and nodded. She looked at him, "Name, what is?"
"Duncan," He smiled and nodded to his sister, "She's Isobel, and Kitty's real name is Kathleen."
She smiled, "I like… the all names."
He wasn't unkind at her blundering through the words, "Thank you."
She pulled Kitty out of the tub, dried her, and helped dress her; all while the other two did the same by themselves.
She put them to bed, making up a story in Norwegian.
When they slept, she stayed up, her expression almost blank and her body so tired. But she couldn't sleep, not when she was so afraid that he might come back.
