It was a loud bleat that finally woke Mirabel from her slumber the next morning. She sat up in the cot, somewhat disoriented for a moment before remembering the previous day. With an inaudible groan, she slumped back onto the pillow.

    After dinner the night before, Ansel and Esther had been sent to their beds while Tomas, Adelaide, and her had stayed up a little longer. As soon as Tomas had shown his mother Mirabel’s wrists, she had immediately stood up and gone to her cupboard, pulling out a salve.

    She’d applied it liberally to Mirabel’s red wrists and then sent her straight to bed after, saying she looked exhausted. However, Mirabel had lain awake for a good hour before she’d finally drifted off into sleep. It didn’t surprise her much; she almost always had troubles getting to sleep.

    Sitting up again, she wondered what time it was. A cursory glance at the other cots made it was clear she was the only one left in bed. She ran a hand across her face, still exhausted. From the bright light streaming through the window, she was sure it had to be late morning at least. How much had she actually slept last night?

    She threw the thin covers off and swung her legs over the edge of the cot. If everyone else was up, she should be too, whether she was tired or not.

    All of a sudden, she realized her wrists no longer itched, and her brow scrunched, her eyes turning to her wrists as she lifted her hands into the bright stream of light. The dry, chafed redness of the day before was almost entirely gone, faint red marks left in their place. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight.

    Just then, however, she was distracted as she heard footsteps enter the room. The cottage wasn’t a large one by any means, but it did have a few different rooms. Instinctively, she pulled the covers back over her, hiding under their thin protection.

    It was Adelaide. She chuckled goodnaturedly as she came into the room.

    “No need to get worried, love. Just me,” she said with a small smile. “Now, how are your wrists doing this morning?”

    Mirabel’s eyebrows inched closer together once more as she lifted her arms for the woman to see. Perhaps she could explain the strange phenomenon.

    “Oh, that’s much better!” she declared, acting as if it was all perfectly normal. Reaching into a pocket on her apron, she pulled out the salve from the night before. Mirabel could only suppose that she had been planning on applying some more when she’d come to - presumedly - wake Mirabel up. “I think just a bit more and you’ll be all set again.”

    Adelaide came to sit on the bed beside Mirabel and took her arm gently, applying the salve to both wrists in turn. The salve was cool on her skin, providing soothing feeling, much like the water of the stream had been. It had a sweet smell, an herb or flower that Mirabel couldn’t quite place; she’d never learned such things. Suddenly she wished she had, just so she would know what the smell was reminiscent of.

    “Your skin is soft as a baby’s, dear.” Adelaide looked up with a knowing smile. “Do you moisturize?”

    Mirabel’s face scrunched slightly in confusion, and she shook her head. She had no clue what the woman was on about. Her eyes tilted to where her hand rested in Adelaide’s. Mirabel’s pale hand was slender and small boned, her fingers long and supple; Adelaide’s, however, was darker skinned with calloused palms like her son’s. Mirabel’s eyes stayed trained on their hands for a long moment. The more differences she noted, the more disconcerted she felt. She was… different.

    While Mirabel had never been entirely normal due to lacking a voice, she had never thought of herself as an oddity. Not until recently. Not until she was kidnapped. Now, she was beginning to notice things, little differences like hair color, and skin tone. And she was different. She wasn’t sure how to feel about the differences; was she strange?

    Adelaide stood up then, placing her hands on her ample hips. Her eyes scanned over Mirabel, causing her to feel even more self conscious. She shrank into herself.

    “You know what, I bet you one of my old dresses would probably fit you well enough,” Adelaide said at long last, and Mirabel’s self consciousness disappeared. “Come with me.”

    Mirabel obediently followed the woman out of the room and into the one beside it. This room was mostly bare in comparison to the other rooms she had been in thus far, which surprised her. In one corner of the room, just inside the room, was a large chest, and it was there that Adelaide was headed.

    Adelaide threw open the chest without too much difficulty, after lightly dusting the top of it off. It had clearly been some time since she had last opened it.

    She began pulling ambiguous items of fabric out of the chest, presumedly clothing. Out came a streak of red, then a great canvas of brown. Even a boot was taken out and put to the side. Laying most of the clothes off to one side on a table, she dug through the trunk while Mirabel stood awkwardly to one side, watching.

    At last, Adelaide straightened, holding a blue dress out at arm’s length. It was made out of simple fabric with a wide neckline, the skirt straight and long. It was made of wool, it seemed, and had long sleeves to match the skirt. It was hemmed with a simple stitch.

    Adelaide came over and held the dress up to Mirabel, measuring the shoulders to hers.

    “Here,” she said, handing Mirabel the dress. “Go try this on for me.” She turned around and dug through the pile she’d pulled out before finding a leather belt. “And this too. It ought to make it fit better.” She gave Mirabel a smile and stepped out the door of the room. “Just let me know when you’ve finished, and I’ll get you some breakfast.”

    As soon as she’d left, Mirabel took a look at the dress. She never actually dressed herself before, but it looked simple enough to put on. It was just a simple outline of a dress, really. Easy.

    A few minutes later, she’d changed her mind on that topic. While she’d managed to get the dress on, it had taken several attempts. She felt mildly more stupid than she had a few minutes previous to the dressing attempt. She was normally rather good at most things she attempted, and the difficulties she’d had with the simple task of dressing herself was honestly embarrassing to her.

    At least it was on, she decided. Picking up the belt, her shoulders sagged in despair. It didn’t even look simple. Deciding to go without it, she laid it down on the table with the other clothing and walked out of the room.

    She walked into the main room and had to fix one of the shoulders of the dress. The wide neckline on her narrow shoulders caused a few problems. It would be fine, though. It was just a dress. One that was slightly large on her slender figure, of course, but still. It would be fine.

    Adelaide looked up from where she had been setting a place at the table, and amusement spread across her features. She shook her head and walked over to Mirabel, a slight chuckle escaping from her.

    “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, her voice full of mirth. “I told you that you would need the belt.” She pushed one of the shoulders back into position and led her back into the other room.

    She retrieved the wide leather belt from the pile and wrapped it around Mirabel’s waist, tying it in place with a few deft movements. Adjusting it ever so slightly, she stood back and took a look at her handiwork. Nodding, she smiled at Mirabel.

    “Much better. Now, let’s get you some breakfast.”

    Adelaide took her back into the other room and sat her down at the table. To Mirabel, it almost felt like she was being led around like a pet, or a doll. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. It was an odd feeling.

    Adelaide set a dish in front of her, and Mirabel dug in without hesitation. She wasn’t going to pass up good food.

    After a while, Mirabel looked up to see Adelaide watching her, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. With her newfound self consciousness, she found that being stared at now made her rather more nervous than it had before. As if there was something wrong with her. Was there something wrong with her?

    Quickly, she adjusted the shoulders of the dress again, making sure they hadn’t slipped off or anything.

    Adelaide started slightly, as if jolted from a trance. “Oh, sorry dear. I seem to have zoned out a bit there.” She smiled slightly, a vaguely mysterious smile, and Mirabel began to wonder if there was more to this woman than there appeared to be.

    “You’re not from around here, are you, Dove?” Mirabel responded to her nickname, looking at Adelaide curiously. She shook her head in response to the question. “And I don’t just mean Pommern,” Adelaide continued. Mirabel’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. If she didn’t mean Pommern, what else could she possibly mean?

    “Never mind,” Adelaide said with a sweet smile. “I’m just being silly now. Would you like some more to eat?” she asked, gesturing to the now empty dish.

    Mirabel nodded. It was good food, after all. But all the while, her eyes stayed on the woman as she moved throughout the house. She was a curious woman, that was to be sure. Mirabel rubbed idly at her wrists in remembrance of the incredible salve.

    There was nothing particularly remarkable about Adelaide. She was a simple farmer’s wife. She had dark hair pulled into a braid down her back and bright eyes that twinkled when they looked at you. She was everything a wife and mother should be. But to Mirabel, there seemed to be more to her than met the eyes.

    “How did you communicate with your folks back home?” Adelaide questioned as she set the dish back in front of Mirabel, heaping with food. “I mean, since you can’t talk, you must have had some way of ‘speaking’ to them, am I right?”

    Mirabel nodded and finished chewing before answering. While she had never had the opportunity to receive the lecture about ‘no talking while chewing’ she had heard it being drilled into Tristen enough times that it was second nature for her by now.

    As soon as she was done chewing, she moved her finger on the tabletop, as if writing a letter. She looked up at Adelaide to be sure she understood, repeating the action as she had done with Tomas.

    “You… wrote?” Adelaide said, guessing correctly. Mirabel nodded enthusiastically in response. She wished she had her slate with her. Or anything to write on, really. Having to communicate through her actions alone when she could express herself so much better in words was beginning to peeve her.

    The door to the cottage swung open then, and both Mirabel and Adelaide turned to see who it was. Esther ran in and, upon seeing Mirabel, rushed to the table and took a seat as well.

    “Esther, what have I told you about leaving the door open?” Adelaide scolded mildly, reminding Mirabel of her nurses when she was young.

    Esther smiled sheepishly and turned around, going back to close the door. In a blink, or so it seemed, she was back at the table, a grin on her face as she looked at Mirabel. Mirabel’s best guess was that they didn’t have company over much; their cottage was rather out of the way of any other houses or villages, it seemed. She couldn’t think of much else that would account for the girl’s odd infatuation with her.

    “Tomas was wondering if you were up yet,” Esther said, addressing Mirabel. One of Mirabel’s eyebrows quirked upward in question. Esther giggled. “He wants you to meet the goats, silly. Come on!”

    Esther hopped down from her seat and took Mirabel’s hand with a grin. Mirabel looked to Adelaide, but when she received no response, she smiled at Esther and stood. Esther dragged her to the door with great enthusiasm, and Mirabel couldn’t suppress a grin. It was like the younger sibling she’d never had.

    And with that, she was out the door, and into the bright sunlight of late morning.

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A/N And with that, I've given you guys two chapters in one day! :O Haha, I didn't update yesterday, so I decided to put up two today x) Enjoy! Let me know what you think :D