Lys: Bright Truth

Aithne warmed at the Guttersnipe's words. Once more, she'd been falling into the negative, and the girl pushed her towards the positive- the truth the lie tried to obscure.

"...Which is to say, no longer than he can hold it at arm's length in his sense of pride." The Guttersnipe gave her an encouraging smile. "Pride is a faded, patchy blanket held against the solid, warm promise of a wife."

Aithne laughed a little. She felt warm through, herself, and suddenly wanted very much to see Cathair. "Thank you, Guttersnipe. I needed to hear that." She smiled back at the girl. "Now. Off with the dress. I can't hem it with you in it."

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Cathair had amassed a nice pile of wood. "This will do, for a start. Care to help me carry it up the hill, lads?" The boys were eager to show off their strength, so the three of them tied the soon-to-be wattle into bundles and set off up the hill. There was a fine drizzle misting over the valley, and Cathair hoped things would dry out soon. He simply couldn't wait until spring. It was unthinkable. If the weather didn't clear up soon, he'd be splitting his time between this house and a place to winter with his wife.