Adrift by Elizabeth A. Reeves

of salt.  At the very least I owed her something.
    I sat up suddenly with horror at a thought.  How was I ever going to get to speak to my mother if she was locked into Faerie and no one could get in?
    With an effort I closed my eyes and unclenched my hands finger by finger.  There were only two people I knew who could answer any of my questions, and that would have to wait for the morning.
    I would just have to try to sleep, which always was a bad idea.  Even the phrase ‘trying to sleep’ suggested the inability to sleep.
    I threw my pillow over my head, willing my brain to stop whirling in ever-dizzying circles.
    What does a person do when they’ve lost their whole life?
    I opened my eyes and it was morning.
     

 
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
     
     
     
    I spent the whole next day carding wool.  It was a tough job and I was scarcely into my first bundle of wool before the backs of my arms were burning.  The ‘carders’ were two flat combs with wire bristles, designed to remove debris and tangles from the wool by virtue of brute force.  It rather reminded me of trying to brush my hair without conditioner.
    The weather was perfect and I sat under Maura’s tree, carding, while she used giant witches’ cauldrons over wood fires to heat dye to color her wool.  It was fascinating to watch her, as she used natural dyes only.  It was like a science lesson as she chopped up sycamore bark and added salt to make a deep red, or roses and lavender with lemon juice for a beautiful pink.  She was tireless, stirring hanks of roving in the pots as I finished carding them.  She sang and hummed cheerfully as she worked.
    Pulling the combs through thick knots of wool until they were smooth was oddly soothing despite the way my arms ached.  The wool itself was lovely, coming to me in tangled dreadlocks and heading to Maura’s pots as fluffy clouds of exquisite softness.
    When my bag of wool was done, I helped Maura hang her dyed batches over clotheslines to dry in the sunlight.  I grinned with pride, imagining all the beautiful things Maura would make with all that beautiful fiber.
    “Not that you haven’t earned your keep,” she said, with a wink,  “but I believe the horses could do with a good grooming and some exercise.”
    I grinned.  “That’s not work, that’s reward.”
    She winked at me.  “I’ll not tell your boss that.  She’s a slave-driver.”
    I chuckled and headed off to the horse pasture.
    Following Maura’s directions, I found grooming things and tack in the shed.  I decided to groom the pony first, thinking of Coal.  I hoped he was getting a good grooming at his new home.
    Devin’s pony was a rascal.  He checked me thoroughly for treats, snuffing my hands and pockets with the air of experience.  He lipped up the handful of sweet feed I snitched for him as his dues, and chased the bigger horses away from me when they came up, snuffling, to investigate.  I found his halter on the fence and led him to a hitching post to enjoy his grooming.
    I set to currying him down and was soon the center of a cyclone of loose hair.  I laughed and sneezed as the furry teddy bear became a little thinner and sleeker under my assisted shedding.  The pony snorted and twisted his lips with pleasure as I hit all the itchy spots.  His hair was like wool.  I decided to gather it all up at give it to Maura to spin, if she liked.
    He paid me back with a short bareback ride back to the gate so I could swap him out for one of the horses.
    Grooming was familiar work for me, and it had never really felt like work.  I took my time and enjoyed it, learning each animal’s itchy spots and ticklish bits, learning their different personalities.  They were all full into shedding season, though none as heavily as the pony.  I gathered up all the shed fuzz into a bundle.  Perhaps Maura would teach me how to spin it.  Maybe I could make a horse hair rug.
    I laughed at myself.  Who knew how long I’d be welcome in