So sleepy ... eyes drifting closed as she nodded over the counter of the little herbalist shop where she worked, her body jerking itself awake every now and then to reapply herself to the book in front of her before the quiet and heat of the small space lulled her once more towards dozing. There were already three heavy inkblots on the page where she'd dozed off with the pen still on the paper.
Well, at least she knew today what was making her so tired. Sometime in the night, a blast of energy - energy that had felt ever so suspiciously like Lilli - had reverberated like a shockwave through the ground, jolting her awake with her heart racing. From deep sleep to full awakening, the only thing that had kept Niamh from leaping out of bed ready to fight had been Brishen's arm about her, holding her down. And he didn't seem to have been effected by the shockwave. Although ...
"That man kin sleep through anythin'," she snorted to herself, blinking her tired eyes open once again and leaning back to stretch.
She hadn't fallen back to sleep for what felt like hours, lying there with her eyes fixed on the window, tense and alert. Anyone would have thought she was expecting Lilli to come bursting in, all the legions of hell on her heels. But this not knowing what had caused that shuddering, shocking awakening ... it was worse.
A huge yawn took over for a moment, necessitating her to lean back and cover her mouth, smiling apologetically to her employer, who was grinning his little knowing grin over by the working fireplace. The little old man hadn't said a word about her fatigue the last few days, but he kept making little comments about it, laughing to himself.
"Easy there, little'un, don't want you to fall off backwards and do yourselves a damage," he nodded to her, and she laughed softly, inching forward on her stool to turn back to her work.
It was simple enough, though deathly dull. Her pen scratched over the paper, detailing the recipes they had altered or made up during this cold snap to deal with the plethora of winter ailments people were suffering, the number of bottles or jars sold, the sheer tonnage of herbs and spices they'd gone through in the last ... wait a second.
Niamh frowned, her gaze caught and held by the date she had just written. She looked up at her employer, who was still chuckling to himself over the latest brew of medicinal wines he was concocting. 'Yourselves?' she thought to herself. 'Who says that? If I fell, I'd hurt myself, surely ...'
A cold little shiver of uncertainty wriggled its way down her spine as her gaze returned to the date under her pen. It was today's date, but that wasn't what was concerning her.
Suddenly feeling startlingly awake, she leaned down to where her own bag was secreted under the counter, dragging from it her diary. Unhooking the elastic from around it, she flipped the pages to the end of last month, noting with bitten lips the date marked with a big red star. Then she slowly twitched the pages forward, counting under her breath. There was no big red star where there should be one this month.
Niamh's head snapped up, her stare finding her employer, who was watching her with that knowing look in his twinkling blue eyes again. She shook her head, blinking, and looked down again. No red star ... very tired ... a little tender in places ... feeling bloated ... she was just late, right? But now she thought about it, the alternative didn't seem quite so alarming as it might once have done.
Clearing her throat, she dropped her diary back into her bag and rose from her stool.
"M'jus' poppin' out fer a mo'," she told the elderly man who employed her, and was soon to employ Brishen, too. "Anythin' ye'd like while m'out?"
He shook his head, waving her away with another of his irritatingly understanding chuckles. How dare he suspect before she did? It was her body! But by that token, he didn't know why it should be impossible. It wasn't as though she discussed her birth control with her boss. So what might have happened ...
She stopped that train of thought, shrugging into her coat as she stepped out into the cold air. Snow hung about her, settling pure white against her dark hair. No use wondering, not until she was sure. Now ... she glanced up and down the street before heading towards the market proper. Where to find a decent, reliable test somewhere Lilli or Brish weren't going to hear about it before she had something to tell ...
((Rough translation of the Irish Gaelic title - Maybe, Baby.))
Well, at least she knew today what was making her so tired. Sometime in the night, a blast of energy - energy that had felt ever so suspiciously like Lilli - had reverberated like a shockwave through the ground, jolting her awake with her heart racing. From deep sleep to full awakening, the only thing that had kept Niamh from leaping out of bed ready to fight had been Brishen's arm about her, holding her down. And he didn't seem to have been effected by the shockwave. Although ...
"That man kin sleep through anythin'," she snorted to herself, blinking her tired eyes open once again and leaning back to stretch.
She hadn't fallen back to sleep for what felt like hours, lying there with her eyes fixed on the window, tense and alert. Anyone would have thought she was expecting Lilli to come bursting in, all the legions of hell on her heels. But this not knowing what had caused that shuddering, shocking awakening ... it was worse.
A huge yawn took over for a moment, necessitating her to lean back and cover her mouth, smiling apologetically to her employer, who was grinning his little knowing grin over by the working fireplace. The little old man hadn't said a word about her fatigue the last few days, but he kept making little comments about it, laughing to himself.
"Easy there, little'un, don't want you to fall off backwards and do yourselves a damage," he nodded to her, and she laughed softly, inching forward on her stool to turn back to her work.
It was simple enough, though deathly dull. Her pen scratched over the paper, detailing the recipes they had altered or made up during this cold snap to deal with the plethora of winter ailments people were suffering, the number of bottles or jars sold, the sheer tonnage of herbs and spices they'd gone through in the last ... wait a second.
Niamh frowned, her gaze caught and held by the date she had just written. She looked up at her employer, who was still chuckling to himself over the latest brew of medicinal wines he was concocting. 'Yourselves?' she thought to herself. 'Who says that? If I fell, I'd hurt myself, surely ...'
A cold little shiver of uncertainty wriggled its way down her spine as her gaze returned to the date under her pen. It was today's date, but that wasn't what was concerning her.
Suddenly feeling startlingly awake, she leaned down to where her own bag was secreted under the counter, dragging from it her diary. Unhooking the elastic from around it, she flipped the pages to the end of last month, noting with bitten lips the date marked with a big red star. Then she slowly twitched the pages forward, counting under her breath. There was no big red star where there should be one this month.
Niamh's head snapped up, her stare finding her employer, who was watching her with that knowing look in his twinkling blue eyes again. She shook her head, blinking, and looked down again. No red star ... very tired ... a little tender in places ... feeling bloated ... she was just late, right? But now she thought about it, the alternative didn't seem quite so alarming as it might once have done.
Clearing her throat, she dropped her diary back into her bag and rose from her stool.
"M'jus' poppin' out fer a mo'," she told the elderly man who employed her, and was soon to employ Brishen, too. "Anythin' ye'd like while m'out?"
He shook his head, waving her away with another of his irritatingly understanding chuckles. How dare he suspect before she did? It was her body! But by that token, he didn't know why it should be impossible. It wasn't as though she discussed her birth control with her boss. So what might have happened ...
She stopped that train of thought, shrugging into her coat as she stepped out into the cold air. Snow hung about her, settling pure white against her dark hair. No use wondering, not until she was sure. Now ... she glanced up and down the street before heading towards the market proper. Where to find a decent, reliable test somewhere Lilli or Brish weren't going to hear about it before she had something to tell ...
((Rough translation of the Irish Gaelic title - Maybe, Baby.))