Hannah Mitchell's Arc

Chapter 4 of 8

The morning after the trade, Hannah found her guests hunched on bare straw. She had given the beds' wool to the gophers, and now nine travelers shivered without padding. The guardian would soon count more of them too cold to leave. Hannah needed something soft to line the beds before nightfall, and she had already stripped the only wool she owned. She walked the forest edge, thinking. Wool. She needed wool she had not already spent. Near a stand of low bushes, she heard a soft bleat. A young sheep stood chewing grass, its coat thick and curled and clean. It watched her with calm dark eyes and did not run. Hannah knelt slowly. "Easy," she said. She reached out, and the lamb pressed its warm head against her palm. Its fleece was deep and soft, thicker than any blanket she had torn apart. She could shear it and never leave the animal cold; the coat would grow back before true winter. But she had no shears, and she would not hurt the creature to get what she needed. She sat back on her heels. The lamb settled beside her, folding its legs, and leaned its whole warm weight against her side. That was when she understood. She did not need to take the wool. She needed the lamb itself. Hannah led it back to the travelers' house. It followed without a rope, trotting close at her hip. Inside, the sleepers lay curled and gray-lipped on the straw. The lamb walked among them, unafraid, and lay down against an old woman's back. The woman stirred, felt the warmth, and pulled the animal closer in her sleep. Hannah watched the color return to the old woman's face. One warm body could not heat nine people. But the lamb's presence gave her the true answer. The forest itself held warmth she had been too tired to see. She spent the afternoon gathering dry moss, fallen leaves, and armfuls of soft grass. She packed it thick along the straw beds, then laid the lamb's shed tufts on top where the fleece caught on branches. By dark the beds were padded again, not with the traded wool but with what the forest gave freely. The lamb curled at the center of the room like a small warm sun. Hannah served the tea, and this time the guests drank it lying warm, not shivering. The old woman slept deep and still. But near the door, a younger traveler tossed and coughed, his forehead damp. The moss warmed him, yet warmth was not the trouble now. He had come in sick, and no bedding could mend that. Hannah pressed a hand to his hot cheek and knew that tomorrow she would need more than wool or moss. She would need medicine.