Bran said he blocked it so it couldn’t reach outside the grove, but inside, the sharp, brutal sound boomed and echoed until she slipped away.
She would practice more, alone, but she wanted to be away from that sound, from the stink the guns made.
Because they excused her from using guns, she’d make up for it, be useful somewhere else.
She missed the dog, and the chickens they had in Greece—for the company and for the tending. But though the garden here wasn’t as big, it still required weeding. The house still needed order.
Sawyer had shown her how to make the sun tea, so she searched the kitchen for what she needed. She learned well, she reminded herself, and could do this small task alone. She was here to learn as well as to fight and to find.
She was here to help. She knew the water in the pot had to boil, and this took time. While she waited, she gathered laundry. Some clothes had the blood and gore from the last battle on Corfu. She would make them clean again.
This also took time, considering the machine that washed clothes wasn’t the same as the machine in the villa. She did what she thought was right, put the big glass jar in the hot water. She forgot the word Sawyer used, annoying herself. But this step was to make sure no bad things got into the tea or jar.
Because Bran had taught her about herbs, she went outside, cut some as she’d seen Sasha do.
She cleaned them, put them in the big glass jar. Once she’d added the water, put on the lid, she carried the jar out into the sun.
Now the sun would do the work.
And she could weed the vegetables and harvest the ripe ones, as she’d been taught.
It would be so pretty, she thought, to live this way, without the training, the fighting. To tend a house, a garden, to make tea with the sun. To find a dog who liked to play. A house by the sea, so the water was always close. A place she could live with her friends, where she could share Sawyer’s bed.
Oh, how she wanted to learn what it was to mate with him.
She could dream, she told herself. It hurt no one to dream. To dream of a house by the sea where she lived with her one true love and her friends, and all the worlds were safe from the dark.
She knew most of it could never be. She had only three turns of the moon before the legs were no longer hers, and the sea once again her only home.
But she could dream, and do all she could to beat the dark.
She straightened when Sasha crossed the lawn, put the basket of tomatoes and peppers on her hip.
“These were ready.”
Sasha took a look, nodded. “They sure are. You’ve kept busy.”
“The sun’s making the tea. I used the mint and the plant that smells like lemons, and the chamomile.”
“Very nice combination.”
“It looks pretty already, but it needs more sun time.”
“Maybe, but when the rest come, they might not give it more. It’s thirsty work. I think they plan a pool break. Gardening’s thirsty work, too. I bet you’d like a swim.”
“Always. Um . . . I have laundry in the machine, but it’s not the same machine. Can you make sure it’s right?”
“I’ll look on my way up.”
“For your suit.”
“No, actually, I’m taking a different break. I need to paint.”
“A vision?”
“No, I just need to paint. The way you need to swim.”
Her smile soft, Annika nodded. “Because it’s what you are.”