Finn woke up with a start from dreams of teeth. It was still dark out, but she could hear the steady snores of her father and brother from the loft where they slept. It must be early indeed, for Father always rose before the dawn. It would be strange in the coming evenings sleeping without those familiar snores around her. She sighed heavily, wondering if Amelia was overreacting with her insistence that a trip to Klain was needed for a simple wound such as this. Mostly people healed on their own from all manner of ailments, right? Surely a... bite from a wild, possibly rabid animal... well, ok, maybe Amelia had a point. But still, Finn wasn't used to being fussed over and chafed at it. This would likely be a miserable trip, unable to do nearly as much as she wanted to be of use. The status of "burden" didn't sit well in her soul.
She never resented when others needed help, but hated needing it herself. She didn't have to be perfect, just... self-sufficient. She was a supporter, not one in need of support. Which was silly, she told herself, because everyone needs help sometimes. This was just much more help than she was used to needing. More help than anyone in the village had needed in a very long time. After her mother died when she was eleven, she immediately jumped into all the tasks. Mourning wasn't something Finn excelled at. Just move on, do something, be useful, and ignore the hole. Fill the gap left behind and there's no reason to fall apart. Not that she hadn't cried; she had. But she didn't grieve openly the way some others thought she should.
She didn't want to need the help of the village, so there was always a wall of sufficiency around her. She would accept help in the form of lessons; a new recipe, or a better crochet stitch were a delight for her to learn from others, but only because she could give likewise in return. Being indebted rubbed her wrong, and she was about to be deeply indebted to Amelia's family for the trouble they would take on her behalf.
As she mulled this over, she began to hear stirrings in the loft. She heard Father's larger body relieve the bed of his weight and shift to press on a creaky slat. The sound was a wake-up signal to Gabe, who ceased his snoring and began his usual sleepy slurred mumbling "time-a getup allllready?"
Father gave a wide yawn as he stretched, "Just about, Son. How's it going down there, Sweet pea?"
Finn smiled at the affectionate moniker. Father must be feeling sentimental about her imminent departure. "I'm fine, thank you. What do I need to do before I go? I'm afraid I slept through most of the preparations and don't know what's left to be done."
Father climbed down the ladder while pulling his suspenders up over his shoulders. "Oh, I about got it all, I think. I just didn't know what clothes and personables you needed, so I left a bag next to your bed. I've already got the spare bedroll, water jug, and foodstuffs next to the door for when that boy pulls the wagon up." For a man generally of few words, that was quite a little group of them. Another sign of how much he'd miss her.
Finn looked down at the bag. Father had thoughtfully laid out a selection of her clothes on the table for her to see. She didn't have many dresses, so it wasn't a lot, but it was a nice gesture anyway to prevent her from getting up and sorting through her own things. Any embarrassment he felt about handling women's garments had been dealt with during her early puberty years. She caught a bad fever one summer that lasted over two weeks, forcing her father to break down and do the laundry himself. It had been awkward watching him try to fold her things, but their relationship survived and they had moved forward.
Finn reached forward and began packing her personal bag. She wouldn't need much, she hoped, other than what Father had already put by the door. She was almost finished when a knock at the door interrupted her. Gabriel bounded over to answer it, roused from eating a breakfast of leftover bread and some preserves that Father had gotten from the root cellar. Finn's stomach rumbled, wishing she'd been eating instead of packing.
"Good Morning!" A cheerful Mayra proclaimed when the door opened. She beamed at Finn, obviously not letting the serious reason behind the journey get in the way of her joy over having an adventure. A slightly more somber Riley stood behind her, looking slightly anxious until he spotted Finn looking relatively unchanged from the day before. His mother's concerns over Finn's health had settled on him heavily during the night, and he was accordingly impatient to get going.
"Morning, everyone. I've got the cart all ready outside with Peach hooked up to it. What needs loading?" Riley was all business today.
"Father packed some things near the door, and after that it's just my bag. I'm almost done. Did your mother pack plenty of food? I confess I have no idea how far it is to the city." Finn matched his businesslike tone, grateful for the reprieve from his usual teasing. The journey was already based on her folly and she didn't want to wallow in embarrassment further.
"I studied the regional maps last night. If we make good time, I think it'll be about four days to get there. We should be safer on the road than cutting through the forest, but that's no guarantee." He bent to pick up the things Father had stacked by the door, and Finn noticed the sword hanging from his side.
Her eyes widened. When did he get a sword? Had he always had one, or was it some remnant from his father? Finn couldn't remember if Riley's father had an occupation before farming. Unsettled at the reminder of the danger the roads might pose to the travelers, Finn shifted on the bed and cleared her throat, preparing herself to ask about it.
Instead of responding to her bid for attention, Riley handed a lighter bag to Mayra for her to carry. Mayra gave him a sharp look for his slightly ungentlemanly behavior when he could have easily carried all of it, but he tilted his head toward Finn and her father.
"We'll let you get your goodbyes in while we load up." Riley finally stated, and Mayra got the message. She dutifully carted her small burden towards the covered cart outside, followed by a more heavily laden Riley.
Finn turned from staring at the door to speak to her brother. "I'm going soon, Gabriel, I love you!" She paused as she swallowed her emotions. "I haven't forgotten about the sweets and I'm going to do my best to bring you the tastiest, fanciest thing I can find."
Gabriel rushed to her for a hug, clinging more tightly than a boy of his age normally hugs a maternal figure. "I'll miss you lots, please come home fast. Father can't cook good at all."
Finn snickered in spite of herself. "Miss Amelia is going to make sure you're well fed and taken care of. You just be the biggest helper you can be, ok? Always help Father or Miss Amelia with whatever they need."
"Yes, Finn, I will," Gabriel replied solemnly. With only him and Father at home, there was going to be plenty of work to go around, and Father certainly couldn't do all of it.
"Good man," Finn responded, tousling his hair, which equally irritated and calmed the boy. "Strength, bravery, and always kindness." The boy nodded, knowing those were traits to aspire to, that he hadn't quite mastered.
"I'll miss you, Father," Finn said. Father had been toasting some bread over the fire and avoiding looking a her. When she spoke, she saw tears fill his eyes.
"I'll miss you too, Sweet Pea. I love you." He put down the bread and came over to hug her tightly. "You're my favorite girl in the world and you have to be safe, no matter what, you understand me?" He choked up a bit.
"I'll do my best, Father. I love you too," She gave the same non-promise that she had given her brother. She hated making promises unless she knew she could keep them. She finished packing her suitcase, which Gabriel picked up and took out to the cart to stow with the other things.
"Need me to carry you to the cart?" Father offered, making Finn flinch. Father quickly turned back to the toasted bread and preserves to make Finn a small packet of food to eat as the journey began. He wrapped it with some dried meat in a cloth and tied it up while Finn collected her thoughts. She really did hate being dependent on others, and being carried was the pinnacle of neediness she hoped to avoid.
"Let me use the necessary and freshen up first," Finn had realized as she was packing that she had never changed from the torn dress she'd worn all day yesterday. "I hoped I'd be able to walk on my own for privacy--" Her sentence cut off and she flushed red as Riley reentered the home.
"Speaking of walking and privacy," he began with a roguish grin, deepening Finn's color further, "I cut some wood last night and procured a regal scepter for Your Hero-ness." Riley bowed deeply and held in his open palms a crudely constructed crutch, obviously rushed in his efforts to have it ready in so short a time, but also smooth looking.
He must have sanded it down to prevent Finn from getting splinters. He offered it forward from a lowly posture as if mockingly presenting a precious gift to a renowned monarch.
He must have gotten very little sleep between packing for the journey, leaving farm instructions for his brothers, checking the cart, and preparing it and the horse for the long journey. On top of all that, he'd taken the time to carve this mildly-self-serving implement that would support Finn with a measure of independence while also saving Riley the trouble of carrying her everywhere she needed to go along the journey. His eyes held faint shadows under them as evidence of his late night and early morning work.
"Thank you, Riley, that's actually incredibly thoughtful." The way his eyes cut up toward her from his bow made Finn instantly regret her use of the word 'actually', as if it was a supreme surprise he could be thoughtful.
In all honesty, it was surprising to her.