[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

She put her little feet up on the footstool, and gave a sigh of contentment as the warmth of the fire seeped into her bones. Outside, the wind buffeted her little house, but the windows were closed and shuttered and inside all was peaceful as she munched, well-read book in her hand.

[46]

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

After she finished her lunch, she stretched out in her armchair and yawned, trying to resist the pull of sleep but failing, lulled by the gentle crackling of the flames. Her eyelids drooped, and her breathing slowed until she was fast asleep and snoring quietly, murmuring to herself whenever a particularly strong gust of wind rocked the house.

[47]

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

She awoke a few hour later to the sound of heavy rain buffeting the roof, walls and windows, and stretched, almost kicking over the now-empty glass of milk on the little table beside her. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, and slid down off her chair, stretching now that she was standing up instead of lying down.

[48]

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

Honey picked up the book which had fallen to the floor when she fell asleep, and marked her page with her bookmark before setting it back on the shelf. She turned, and picked up her empty plate and glass and carried them into the kitchen to wash them, setting them out on the rack to dry when she was done.

[49]

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

She then toddled over to her cupboard in the living room and pulled out her carding basket, with her drop spindle and her wire brushes, and nudged them aside as she pulled out the knitting needles and ball of spun wool she had begun working with. This particular ball had come from her candy-coloured Yingshee, and the bright colours all mixed together into a soft fluffy mess of colour.

[50]

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

For a little while, she sat in her chair and spun, the colours blending into thick yarn in front of her as she went along. This yarn would form something handmade, perhaps to be kept, or gifted, or even sold at the market. She wouldn't really know until she had completed it, though she was inclined to use this yarn for a brightly-coloured shawl.

[51]

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

As the fibres blended in front of her, her thoughts turned to her Yingshee; come the spring, they would be sheared, and every year it surprised her exactly how much wool came off of them. It always seemed like more than the last year, and she hoped it would continue - her brightly coloured yarn attracted buyers from all over.

[52]

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

Winding the yarn she had made into a tight little ball, she placed it in the basket beside the black and blue balls which were already in there, and pushed the whole basket back into its cupboard. Sometimes like now, her attention wandered and she found herself with ample things to do, none of which captured her attention at that moment.

[53]

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

She sighed, and hopped back onto her armchair, staring into the flames as she mused. There was very little she wanted really, material posessions were either made or traded for as and when needed, but she couldn't deny she was lonely - she loved her herds, but they couldn't sit beside her and have a meaningful conversation.

[54]

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

She yelped as the clock struck eight o'clock, startling her out of her thoughts, and yawned; her early risings made for early sleepings, and she headed off to bed, dousing the fire so that it wouldn't burn through the night.

In her bedroom, she changed into her pyjamas and wrapped herself in her quilt, lulled to sleep quickly by the groanings and croakings of her home.

[55]