Annie let the door ease shut behind 'em with a soft creak, arms folded under her shawl as she watched Remmick step out into the moonlight. Her eyes followed that stiff limp he tried to hide, and she sucked her teeth quietly.
βMmm... youβre walkinβ like you got a knife still stuck in ya,β she muttered, not unkindly. β if you can't find a way back with that hurtin' leg, you promise me you'll find somewhere t' hide before the morn.β
She sighs quietly, resting a hand on her hip, looking up at him.
βNow I know you ainβt human. Ainβt expectinβ you t' eat crackers 'n' stew.β
She nods her head towards the woods.βSo if you feel you gotta go hunt, then alright. I ainβt gonβ keep you starvinβ . But you mind me now, Remmick. You do not take the life of a human. Ya heard?
She stepped closer, one hand coming up to gently fix the collar of his shirt, brushing some dried leaves from his shoulder like a mama straighteninβ her boy for church.
βjus Animals. Nothinβ wearinβ shoes. Nothinβ thatβll have kinfolk walkin' 'round here wonderinβ where they gone. That blood will not be shed upon my hands.β
She let her hand linger just a second, then stepped back.
βgo head. I'll be here.β
The house was quiet when he came in, save for the low hum of Annieβs voiceβsoft and rhythmic.
The front door gave a faint creak, but she didnβt look up. She knew who it was. The way the candles shivered in the breath of cool night that curled in behind him and stopped short just shy of her working space.
She was crouched low on the floor of the room she was in, her skirts pooled around her, bare feet pressed firm against the old wooden boards. A shallow dish sat before her, filled with dark oil and floating bits of crushed flower and hair. The room smelled of smoke, lavender, and something faintly metallic.
Her hands moved slowβpressing pins into a small cloth doll, tying red thread in complex loops around its limbs, murmurinβ under her breath.
Annie kept her focus on the doll.
βDidnβt hear no screaminβ in the woods,β she said, soft. βGuessinβ you minded your manners.β
She reached for the small jar beside her, dipped two fingers into the salve, and smeared it across the dollβs chest with a slow spiral motion. The candles flickered in response.
Minutes passed like molasses, though the silence was comfortable.
Then, without looking back at him, she spoke again, slowly setting the doll down.
βYa need somethinβ, hon..?β Her voice wasnβt harsh. Just welcoming.
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