Chapter Text
“All right then, Aeran, I’ve a project for you.”
Aeran looks up. Their mother stands in the doorway, backlit by the afternoon sun, holding something small and indistinct. “Put the book away,” she says, and Aeran complies with a sigh, shutting the old herbalism manual without bothering to mark the page. It’s not like they haven’t lost count of how many times they’ve read through it anyway, but there’s less and less to do these days. The flocks aren’t doing well, so there’s only so much wool left to spin; their friends have all gone off, to the new bridge they’re building over where the earth broke when the moon fell, or to the Golden Bazaar, or even off to the Shroud to try their chances. Might as well start over in the book again next time, for a diversion.
“What is it?” They get up and walk closer, only to have the small something— brown and distinctly wiggling, whatever it is— held out for them to take. “You know I’m no good with animals, Ma...”
“I know, and I’m wishing I’d done something like this sooner. You’ve got to learn new things to get by in the world, you know that. Take it.” She waits for Aeran to get a hold of the creature, then lets go and puts her hand on her hips. “You remember Orson’s sheepdog, that had the funny pups a few moons back? He’s thinking the sire weren’t any kind of sheepdog. Said some of the pups were useless, not least the runt— no instincts, and too small besides. Had to remind him that life’s not for wasting.”
“Isn’t twenty a little old for ‘give them a pup to teach them responsibility’...?” They examine the dog, now that they’ve got a better hold on it. It’s a foolish-looking little thing, and not actually brown; that’s a coating of dirt, they realize with dismay, over its wiry black and tan fur. It regards them back with a vacant dog-smile. “And our pantry’s hardly full, too. How do you mean for me to feed him?”
“I struck up a bargain with Lena. There’s still butcher’s scraps to be found.” Their mother walks forward and puts a hand on their shoulder. “You’ve hardly any company these days, Aeran.”
“This isn’t much to replace everyone with, Ma.”
”I know. I just— I want you to try, all right? Just give it a few weeks. If you’re really not getting on with him, I’ll find someone else to take him, but I think it’ll do you good to have something to focus on. And... and if...” Her grip on their shoulder tightens, and her mouth twists as she tries to let out the words that she doesn’t want to set free. “If you have to leave, later on, I don’t want you to be all alone on the road.”
“Oh, Ma.” They struggle with the dog for a moment, trying to find the best way to tuck him under one arm— he’s not heavy, but he’s got some distinct ideas about where he ought to be— and hug their mother with their free arm as she tries not to crumple into them and doesn’t quite succeed. “I’ll give it a try. Thanks for looking out for me.” They will themself not to also start crying, and pat her back as she stands there silently shaking for a bit. “It’s going to be all right.”
“I expect it will have to be,” she replies after another moment. “Sorry, love, it’s just hard to think of you leaving. I am trying. ...And I’ve gone and got your shirt all wet.” She steps back, working her way up to a weak smile.
They know better than to try to convince her to leave with them, by now. “Eh, that’s all right. This one needs a bath and I doubt he’s the type to hold still for it.”
That earns a chuckle. “No, likely not. Do you know what you’ll name him?”
Aeran readjusts their grip on the dog once more, looking into the dopey brown eyes. “Well, if he’s constantly dirty and wearing that ridiculous grin... and probably a thief besides...” The dog wags his tail, though they suspect he’s merely happy to be getting attention. “All right, Spriggan, if you’re to stay here you will be washed.”