Where Faeries Live Still ...
Earth
8/4/2011 This week's prompt: EARTH Word count: 400, flash fic
Outside the cottage, Aine knelt, brushed away the light snow, and scooped a handful of soil from underneath the bush next to her door. Straightening up, she pushed the door to the cottage open, and stepped inside to the warmth of the fire and the beauty of Connor's naked backside as he busied himself at the table, preparing a meal. The stripes she had given him glowed red in the dim firelight. With a touch of sadness, and a hint of regret, she smiled at the sight. Stepping past him to the sideboard, Aine reached up to the shelf where she kept her mortar and pestle, and poured the earth, now warmed by her own hand, into the mortar. Connor dared a glance at what the Mistress was doing, and was forced to hide his smile. As he added the dried herbs to his soup pot, Mistress added her dried herbs to the mortar, and began to grind them together with the earthen offering. She began to sing as she worked, and Connor joined in, lending his soft tenor to her lilting soprano in a loving duet.
Connor hooked the cauldron onto the fire-arm and swung it into the flames. He stood staring into the dangerous dancing of light while trying to remove all of the worries and stress of the past few days from his mind. Aine cocked her head and observed him carefully. Yes, soon, he has grown well enough. Soon. She thought with a sigh.
“While our meal simmers, pet, I'd like you on my bed, face down,” she ordered softly.
Connor neither nodded or hesitated. Simply, he turned and walked around the open fireplace to the opposite side where his mistress' bed stood waiting, facing the flames. Aine closed her eyes, resting her hand on the pestle and a small tear escaped. Hastily, she brushed it away with her finger tip and dropped it into the mortar. Adding a small amount of water from a pewter pitcher, she stirred her concoction with her fingers now, laying aside the stone pestle.
Satisfied with the consistency, then she too moved to join her pet on the bed, kneeling next to him and began to soothe the ointment into his stripes.
“You've done well, pet,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss his shoulder tenderly and earning herself an involuntary shiver of joy.