Eilidh dragged her large tarpaulin behind her, gritting her teeth with strain while the large chunks of wood offered her a great deal of effort. Her face grew into a grimace as she noticed Córustrea standing just outside her door, dropping her head before continuing forward, shaking it with a pithy laziness, all while continuing to struggle.

“Oh, no; I don’t need any help, but thanks for offering,” she muttered between heavy breaths, making the final few steps to the front of her home before finally dropping the tarpaulin and allowing her the chance to stop and rest, leaning back and stretching to allow her back a moment’s reprieve.

In the last couple of days, Eilidh had taken to explaining what she was doing as some manner of normalizing having a muted individual in her midst, which she had started to find somewhat therapeutic, if not a bit off, wondering what her friends – particularly Skyla – would say were they to overhear any of this madness. Much of her time had been devoted to thinking how to prove to herself that the woman before her was not, indeed, a figment of her imagination, but there was much that needed doing to keep her living out in the foothills, and the busywork was enough to prevent Eilidh from succumbing to the most desperate of madness in attempting to figure out Córustrea’s psychological origins, if she, indeed, had one.

“They don’t tell you this in class, probably because you can make a killing off of convenience,” Eilidh explained, grabbing one of the large swaths of tree trunk and sitting it atop of another, “You buy un-chopped wood, you keep so much more coin. and all you have to do is learn to chop it yourself.”

She grabbed a hatchet from nearby, “Plus, you get to look damn cool doing it, which is a plus. Though, I guess out here, that’s more self-serving than anything, but hey, I’ve got an audience now.”

Córustrea watched with interest as Eilidh spread her posture, raising the hatchet and, with a motion that signaled much more technique than power, she slammed the hatchet into the top of the trunk, splitting it nearly in two. Córustrea recoiled in a fright at the moment of impact, though quickly returned with an intrigue, leaning forward to examine the activity from afar.

“Ah ha! Look at that!” Eilidh shouted in excitement. She picked up the hatchet, now embedded in the trunk, and slammed it against the trunk below, again and again, until the split was complete, sending large chunks of wood falling to the ground.

Eilidh nodded, standing up straight to allow for a moment’s reprieve, “Check that shit out! I bet you don’t see that every day out in the ocean.”

She grinned as Córustrea watched with fervent interest, trying to take it all in, reaching the hatchet out toward her, “You wanna try?”

The selkie watched, uncertainty laced with terror, though she was clearly somewhat intrigued enough to try. Eilidh reached out another hand in offering, “You’re not gonna hurt anything. I mean, the wood, sure, but that’s a foregone conclusion.”

Biting her lip, Córustrea watched silently for a moment more before slowly reaching for the hatchet, earning her a wry smirk from Eilidh, “Atta girl! Now-” she gently pulled the selkie toward the trunk, sitting the split end atop it for her to further subtract, directing with a finger. “Now, you’ll want to aim here, but I mean, we can make do with anywhere.”

She stepped away as the wide-eyed selkie began to raise her arms, her head rising in time with the hatchet as her eyes tracked it in awe, forcing Eilidh to reach out for her shoulder, “Okay, that’s strange, but okay. Eyes on the log, alright?” She further explained, arcing her arm down past the stump. “If the hatchet misses, you don’t want to fuck up your legs, so you need to step out with your feet apart.”

Unable, she realized, to communicate that effectively, Eilidh frowned, scooting a foot out and hooking it around Córustrea’s uninjured ankle, gently pulling it toward her until the selkie understood, willing her legs apart until adequately apart.

"Alright, eyes on here," Eilidh direct, pointing in tandem with her words, "Raise your arms, and- go!"

Córustrea dropped the hatchet, in the most accurate use of the term. Putting no strength or technique into the motion, the blade end of the hatchet merely fell into the top of the log, lodging it onto the top edge of the bit of wood nary an inch deep. Eilidh watched, chuckling to herself, not knowing what else she would have expected, shrugging.

"Well, you hit it, so that's a good first-"

Before she could go on, Eilidh was interrupted by Córustrea throwing her arms up into the air, hopping around in place as she laughed jovially, giggling loudly and hopping around, nearly dancing as the elation of the act overtook her, leaving Eilidh unable to do much else but grin in childish admiration. Her chestnut-crimson hair fluttered around her face as she spun around, nearly hanging in space while her energy kept her in constant motion, a whirling dervish of momentum and elation.

"Well, that's a reaction, to be sure," Eilidh smirked, "Next time, you just need to work on working it through the entire log." She took the hatchet, smashing the log against the stump until it splintered through, replacing it with another one. "You wanna handle the rest? That'll let me move on to the laundry."

She handing off the hatchet, which Córustrea took with exuberance, quickly readying her posture for another swipe. Eilidh watched for a moment, allowing herself another wispy smirk before grabbing a pail by the door and heading off toward Loch Lomond.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, alright?"

A squeal emerged from Córustrea, a panicked, loud yelp almost, causing Eilidh to spin back around, nearly frightful herself, "What?! What is it?!"

Córustrea immediately rushed toward her, dropping the hatchet and throwing her arms around her, pulling her back toward the home, causing Eilidh to immediately force herself away from the woman's embrace, "Hey! Hey! Knock it- off!"

She shoved her away, now ascowl, "What's wrong with you?!" She took a moment to study the terror in Córustrea’s face, turning back toward Loch Lomond before returning, "What, the loch? What's wrong with it? Is that where you hurt yourself? I'm not going in it; I'm just getting some water to wash the laundry."

Her words, of course, did little to quell the woman's trembling, Eilidh groaning as her shoulder’s slumped, trying her best to remain patient and work up an explanation that might translate, picking up the pail, "Water? I'm not going for a swim, already?" She made a dipping motion with the bucket, though Córustrea only shook her head.

"Gods," came the defeated and exasperated sigh from Eilidh, "I don't even know if you're real and you're dictating my life, already. Look, I'll be careful, alright?" She raised two fingers to her eyes before turning them outward as though to denote her keeping an eye out for any danger. "I've literally done this for years and nothing's happened, so-"

Eilidh began down the large foothill toward the loch, with Córustrea watching intently, but otherwise doing nothing else to stop her. By the time she had turned to look over her shoulder once more, Córustrea had retrieved the hatchet and was holding it tightly against her chest with both hands, earning her a scrutinizing stare from Eilidh.

"How odd," she thought to herself, approaching the loch's edge and retrieving a pail of water. It looked no different than it ever did. Loch Lomond, a massive lake which was probably even deeper than it was wide, had been a staple of life for many of those in and around the area surrounding Dumbarton, and to an extent Glasgow, for probably a millennia; that Córustrea would have such intense reservations about it baffled Eilidh to no end.

She shrugged, turning back and lugging the pail of water back up the hill toward her home, grumbling to herself of the oddities of the day, which had been a mixed bag- though, the last few days hadn't been much different. Nor did she suppose the coming days to be much different. Upon approaching, Córustrea’s relief was immense, having quickly approached Eilidh to look her over, again failing to render aid for the massive weight being carried. Eilidh gave a glib frown before lifting the pail up onto a nearby table she had outside, the winter air now beginning its crisp bite as the day began to roll along to its end, causing the bare skin of her arms where water had splashed out and covered her to sting.

"See? No big deal," she made a show of peering into the waters of the bucket, "Nothing in here."

Despite that, Córustrea nonetheless peered inside herself, though Eilidh wasn't certain whether it was for care of fright or emulating her.

"Let's just- eat supper and we'll return to this afterward. All of this carrying stuff without help had me hungry," Eilidh rolled her eyes, which Córustrea noticed, causing the selkie to flop her head up as though her eyes couldn't move independent from her skull, "I'm just thankful you seem to like the fish I bought. I could see a seal just eating whatever, but I get the feeling you might have more discernable tastes. I know you have /lakes you hate."

Eilidh stepped into her home, waving for Córustrea to follow, which she did. For all of her shortcomings, the previous two days had seen Córustrea become quite the capable handywoman in the kitchen, much to Eilidh's delight; she wasn't necessarily a burden, per se, elsewhere, but the time and effort to explain things did take a toll after a while. The quickness with which Córustrea took to cooking - understandably when it came to her own meals, that of deconstructing fish - was a welcome sight. Even though it took her a few tries to get the hang of a knife, she seemed to know her way around the fish itself, and delighted in the ways Eilidh knew how to enhance the flavor, be it with herbs or lemon, the latter of which the previous night had left Córustrea absolutely beholden to Eilidh for quite some time.

Much of the time the first few days was as such; Eilidh going through her regular routine, finding things Córustrea was oddly adept at - which were things that a selkie could conceivably be good at, or at least familiar with - and then the bevy of things she hadn't the faintest clue as to their structure. These things were hit or miss as to Córu’s - the nickname Eilidh eventually gave to her - level of interest, though she seemed intent, in most things, to at least try to show an interest to varying degrees of success.

It was a change to her routine that Eilidh had been uncertain of at first, but - despite a few hiccups when her students showed up - had largely been a positive experience for her, at least compared to the catastrophizing she had done at the start of it all. Every day, she would redress Córustrea’s wound, gaining further an idea of how much longer she would be staying before moving on - though, she was curious how exactly she was going to convey that to her. If she wasn't planning on staying, what exactly was keeping her there, at all, anyway? Eilidh certainly had no intention of harboring a guest permanently, though that was a problem for further down the road; though, at the speed at which her wound was healing, it was a problem to come sooner rather than later.