House chickens must wear many hats. To Henrietta’s relief, those hats were figurative; she never much cared for the indignities of clothing. Ribbons were another matter, especially ones bestowed on award podiums. She wore those with pride.
But Henrietta was more than a show chicken. She was a house chicken, and that meant she was a pest controller, a therapist, a taskmaster. A friend.
Well, not a friend to all. Hayden was her person, and she didn’t see much need for the rest of them. At least Ryis had a healthy admiration for birds - she let him pet her, on occasion.
The others were hopeless. Balor, Valen, and Errol gave her a wide berth, which was respectful, but none of them ever bothered to bring her treats. Celine did, but she was too nervous to feed Henrietta by hand now.
She hadn’t meant to peck the girl. It was a simple misunderstanding, one a flattened palm would’ve solved.
March was the worst of all. He didn’t address her by name, only as “chicken.” When she pecked him, she meant it.
But then, there was this new person. “The Farmer.”
Henrietta considered the nickname an impertinence. Hayden was the farmer in Mistria. His people had worked this land for generations.
Henrietta Jubilation Featherbottom knew something about legacies. She was a part of the most award winning lineage to ever grace chickendom. She’d raised a whole brood of blue ribbon birds, and she had Hayden to thank for that. Any affront to his honor was an attack on her own good name.
Hayden didn’t seem to mind the other farmer, though. He even let the interloper join game night. He broke the news to her over a bowl of popcorn, as if it was only natural to include this fraud. “Used to be an adventurer before settling down here. Imagine the stories!”
An adventurer indeed. Sounded like a rootless, chickenless existence - more of a rogue than a farmer, if you asked her. When their new guest arrived, Henrietta clucked with all the derision she could muster.
In return, she received a handful of wild berries. Palm flat, and steady.
“Nice to meet you, Henrietta.”
Well mannered. That was a surprise.
Hayden gave Henrietta an encouraging pet. “Isn’t that thoughtful?”
She kept a wary eye on the stranger while she plucked and pecked at the ripened fruit. Hayden rubbed at the back of his neck - a nervous habit.
Why should he be nervous? Henrietta studied his kind face, the one she’d known since she broke out of her egg. He was blushing.
“Ah, she’s made a bit of a mess. Sorry about your hand.”
Henrietta trilled, indignant. She was a dainty eater. Juice stains were to be expected, and his embarrassment degraded them both.
The so-called farmer smiled at Hayden, and gave him a rakish wink. “Better berries than monster blood.”
The cheek! But Hayden seemed quite charmed - he hardly noticed their other guests arriving, and the color never quite left his face. Valen even asked if he was feverish.
Amusing jokes, exciting anecdotes, nice manners… by the end of the night, Henrietta had to concede that this new human was well socialized.
Over the next few weeks, a routine took shape. Sweetwater was the fastest route to the museum from the other farm. On the way, offerings were made: berries for Henrietta, and coffee for Hayden. Not every day, but close. Henrietta often joined them at the kitchen table - gossip was her secret joy, and there was plenty to go around. Apparently, Valen was spending an awful lot of time with that witch who ran the bathhouse.
Hayden took a sip of coffee. “Good for them. Life’s meant to be shared, isn’t it?” Henrietta watched his warm brown eyes widen. Hayden coughed, and set his coffee down so hard that it sent a spoon flying. The clatter ruffled Henreitta’s feathers, but she smoothed them for his sake. Poor Hayden was blushing enough already.
“That’s why ranching is so rewarding. I’m glad you decided to get a coop - how are the girls doing so far?”
“They’re great. Thanks for setting up the see-saw, it’s been a big hit.”
Henrietta had met the girls once, under Hayden’s watchful gaze. It was clear they needed a strong matriarch, but Hayden scooped her up before her beak could do its work.
That was alright. Henrietta could be patient - they’d be joining her flock soon enough.
After all, Henrietta was nothing if not perceptive. She knew a courtship when she saw one, even if it lacked the usual dropped wing and dizzying dance. The gifts, the fleeting touches, the lingering looks… honestly, she couldn’t understand what they were waiting for.
Once the leaves began to turn, Hayden confided in her. Not just her - Ryis and Valen were there too. They didn’t equal her in wisdom or tact, but such gatherings were good enrichment for humans. She listened politely, and cooed in agreement when Ryis stated the obvious: “Hayden, we know. Everyone knows. You’ve been attached at the hip all summer.”
More blushing. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Valen shrugged, and swirled her glass of wine. “What’s there to say? We all thought you were already dating.”
Hayden rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, we aren’t. I don’t think so, anyway.”
They all laughed. Or clucked impishly, in Henrietta’s case. Once Ryis recovered, he put a gentle hand on Hayden’s shoulder. “You’d know. The next time you’re together, just speak from the heart. Trust me.”
The four of them were halfway through a fiendish jigsaw puzzle when Errol burst through the front door. Henrietta dropped the piece she was nibbling on and nearly fell off the table in shock - such an entrance!
The man’s face was as white as his beard. He looked absolutely stricken. “Please, come quickly. The mines -”
Henrietta trilled in alarm. Only their semi-retired adventurer would be so foolish. So brave.
The others charged off without her, leaving Henrietta sick with worry. She tore open a bag of premium treats, but the tasty morsels did little to soothe her.
Finally, Hayden returned with Valen and the intrepid patient. Henrietta was ready with a lecture about the dangers of monster hunting, but she received no promises of hanging up the blade. Just a pat on the head, and a crushed berry.
“As your doctor, I can’t advise you to hand feed livestock right now. You’re more prone to infection if she-”
“-she won’t. Here you go, Henrietta. I plucked this off a bush as they were dragging me out of the narrows.”
It was the nicest one she ever tasted.
Naturally, Henrietta was an accomplished nurse. She set to work, nestling at the patient’s feet on the couch while Valen gave Hayden instructions.
“This one has to be taken with food, twice a day. Something simple, like toast.”
Eggs and toast, surely. Henrietta began to doze.
When she awoke a while later, she wasn’t surprised to find another set of feet to warm. The two of them were laying in each other’s arms beneath her favorite checkered blanket.
They were mindful not to disturb her, but Henrietta allowed them their cooing and preening and kissing. Humans were such soft, silly creatures.
And now she had two to look after. Henrietta drifted back to sleep, and added another figurative hat to her collection: matchmaker.
