Chapter 7 #2
She pulled out a bin of smaller pieces—good wood from a variety of trees, all well-seasoned and perfect for toys. Her mind raced through possibilities. Simple animals would sell—horses, cows, sheep. But everyone could make those. She needed something different, something that would catch attention.
The job in the city had taught her about mechanisms, about how small pieces could fit together to create movement. What if she made birds with wings that actually flapped? Or horses with legs that moved? Nothing too sophisticated, but enough to make them special.
Excitement bubbled up, the first genuine enthusiasm she'd felt about anything since she’d arrived. This was something she could do, that she could create with her own hands. Something that combined what she'd learned in the city with what she was learning now.
She selected several promising pieces and carried them back to the house along with a handful of carving tools, her mind already sketching designs.
The molecular bonder would let her work faster and more precisely.
She could make joints that would survive rough play and add details that would make each piece unique.
If Klaus agrees.
He'd be back before nightfall, he'd said, and she'd ask him then. Maybe she could offer to trade—what? She couldn’t bring herself to charge him for room and board when he had nowhere else to go. No, she’d just have to hope that he agreed with her plan. Perhaps he’d even offer to help and she could spend more time in close quarters with him, breathing his scent, feeling the heat of his body, and wanting things she had no business wanting from an alien warrior who would leave as soon as his ship was repaired.
Damn. She set the wood on the kitchen table with more force than necessary, knowing she was being ridiculous.
He had made it clear emotions were irrelevant to him, that duty was all that mattered.
Even if he felt some of the attraction that made her hands shake when they touched, he'd never act on it. He was too disciplined, too controlled.
And she had no business thinking about it anyway. She had Theo to care for, a homestead to maintain, and a life to build for the two of them. Adding ill-advised romantic entanglement with alien warrior to that list would be spectacularly stupid.
But her mind kept drifting back to the way he'd looked at her mouth. The way his hand had covered hers, warm and solid. The way his voice had roughened when he'd stepped back, when he'd said his judgment was becoming compromised. Compromised. As if she were a threat to his precious control.
The thought made her smile despite herself. She was a threat to a trained alien warrior's composure. It was absurd, but it was also flattering.and she wanted to test it, wanted to see how far she could push before that control cracked.
No. She had work to do that didn't involve fantasizing about aliens. She built up the fire in the stove and put water on to boil for tea. Then she pulled out paper and pencil—luxuries she usually reserved for Theo's lessons—and started sketching designs.
A horse first. A simple body, four legs, and a tail.
She drew a simple joint mechanism, something that could be assembled with the help of the bonder.
The legs would swing forward and back, giving the illusion of motion when a child played with it.
Then a bird with wings that could flap using a similar mechanism.
There had been paints in Willem’s workshop—she could paint the animals in realistic colors or something more fanciful.
She lost herself in the work, sketching variations, and refining designs. The process felt familiar—reducing complex mechanisms to simple drawings and figuring out how pieces would fit together.
The kettle whistled and she made tea, cradling the warm cup as she studied her sketches. She'd need Klaus to show her how to set the parameters on the bonder, how to ensure clean joints and smooth surfaces. But the basic designs were sound. She could do this.
The clock on the mantle chimed twice. Two hours until Theo came home.
Four until nightfall when he’d promised to return.
She should start preparing dinner or finishing mending or do any of the dozen tasks that needed to be done.
Instead, she pulled out a piece of golden-hued wood and began roughing out the shape of a horse.
Just to see if her design would work, she told herself. Just to prove the concept.
The horse began to take shape under her knife.
Rough still, and needing refinement, but the basic form was there, and she found the process deeply satisfying.
What would Klaus think, she wondered. She’d seen approval in his eyes when she was working with the bonder.
Would he be impressed with this project as well?
The knife slipped and she jerked back, narrowly avoiding cutting her thumb.
Concentrate. She couldn't afford injuries.
She set the partially carved horse aside and stood, stretching muscles that had grown stiff from hunching over the table.
The sun had shifted, afternoon light slanting through the kitchen window at a different angle.
Time was passing, as it always did, indifferent to human concerns.
Klaus was out there somewhere, assessing his ship and planning his departure. And she was in here, carving toys and daydreaming about things that could never be. She should start dinner. She should be practical and focus on survival rather than fantasy.
Instead, she picked up the second piece of wood and began carving a bird.