Together they sat at her table, picking at the cluster of pieces thrown into the cast iron pan.

Too hungry to care, Ophelia ate it happily. Kitt eventually poured fresh tea for everyone. Vix and Todd shared a cup. The four of them sat at her table until their bottoms grew sore, and then for hours more after that. She had tended to the ache in her wrist with a patch of moss soaked in cold water. The splinter was far too a delicate operation for the time, nor could she really feel it over the pounding inflammation of her wrist.

The Skulker’s watched with wide-eyes and dropped jaws as she tore a patch from a part in her floor, and with a tittering of her fingers, grew something big enough for her arm. They asked her about the mushrooms she had on the wall. Which ones would make them go crazy, or grow a beard. They asked her if she had seen anything gross or weird. They bombarded her with an onslaught of questions, and she answered every one, to her own amazement as well.

When the yawns and rubbing of eyes began to over take them, Ophelia stifled the knot in her gut. She couldn’t bare the thought of turning them out.

“I don’t have any extra beds, but I have lots of blankets, and moss is actually quite comfortable.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Tod with a hand up to his face as he yawned.

“We manage on our own,” said Kitt.

“The offer stands.”

The trio looked to one another then nodded.

She fixed places for them to sleep as best as she could. She pulled all the extra blankets and sheets, all the cushions stuffed with dried moss and down to her sitting room at the front entrance of her cottage. They happily curled around each other, as pups and strays would.

“Feel free to make yourselves tea in the morning.” Ophelia pulled a blanket to the trio.

“Yer a good heart, mam.” Kitt nodded then he yawned, “Honorable Oph--”

“That depends who you ask, I think.”

He waved his hand and lowered his head to a bunched up bit of blanket he intended to use as a pillow. Within a moment all three of them were asleep on her moss-covered floor.

Ophelia moved to the back of the cottage where a small, narrow staircase led to the second floor. It was an open space. The floor was made of wood, instead of stone and moss below. The wall that faced the front of the house was mostly stained glass. Hanging plants lazily swayed in their pots. Her bed was snug against the wall. On the other, her vanity and wardrobe. Both of which she had attempted to decorate with chalk drawings of plants and mushroom, and where another collection of greenery resided.

She went to the vanity and pulled off the nicer things on her person, before systematically, and rather painfully, pulling all the layers of her clothes off. When she was down to her shift, she wrapped herself in a knitted shawl before brushing out her hair with her off hand.

She climbed into bed and found, despite how tired she was, she couldn’t sleep. The thoughts of who could have out bid the Manchesters, seeing Gaspard, and the scowl of Kit’s Mum gnawed at her. The largest bite came from Johannes’ smile again. Then the shift of disappoint and ache in Mavus’ face when she said they weren’t friends. But they paled in comparison to the hints of red in her vision.

As she lie on her back alone in bed, staring at the ceiling, Ophelia felt something in her chest. She tilted her head to the side and in her sleepy haze, she expected to see him lying there. His head that turned with red in his eyes. A laugh that filled the room. Hands reached out and held on to her, soft and comforting.

She blinked. Her hand slid across her bed expecting to cling to the scruff of his shirt, but when her fingers coiled, all they grabbed was her sheet.

The disappointment in this realization hurt worse than the throbbing of her arm.

Ophelia turned her head back and closed her eyes. She sighed. Before she convinced herself to think of anything else, she was asleep.