Word Count :: 400+ For Rose/Odessa!
Collecting lumber, swinging a hammer, foraging for supplies… It was all very laborious work. For days the Russian had been giving it her all. With her eyes on the prize nothing could slow her down, her pack needed something that the Russo knew she could give them. Despite the less-than-desirable way she came to be a member of the pack, the place was growing on her quickly. Her pride wouldn’t let her admit it to herself but the more time she spent within these lands the more it began to feel like home, and ever since the Dark Lady’s speech about Salsoa being family she had begun to look upon these strangers as kin. There were things she wasn’t sure she would ever agree with, but that didn’t matter. With family, everything different except for the heart – and Salsoa had heart.
Thunk… thunk… thunkthunkthunk! The hammer pounded against the salvaged nails, forcing them into the wood to join the planks together. She was finished with about one third of the platform of the small dock she intended to build. The going was slower than she would have wanted, being only one woman with only the basics of carpentry skill, but it was going nonetheless. What she lacked in building experience she more than made up for with her knowledge of boats and docks what with all her time spent sailing, and hoped that what she produced in the end would be sufficient enough for a low-traffic dock.
“Shipments you vill not hold,” she said to her project as she lined up two planks. “But people? Yes. For a vhile anyvay, until ve can do better. Maybe vill get crew to make better.” She spoke to her project softly, muttering half to herself but mostly to the supplies she manipulated. A lot of love and care was going into this project, and maybe if she did good enough, once they got a boat she would be allowed to row… or maybe even sail…
Her eyes drifted away from the wood that she gripped in one hand while she grabbed the hammer. They shifted to the gentle waves of the bay, and took on a far-off look as she imagined what it would be like to be out on the sea again. Maybe even to reach that island over there and explore the unknown…
“Sookin sin!” She spat in Russian as she brought the hammer down a little too far to the left and pummelled the back of her hand. She jerked her hand away but the rough edge of the old nail caught her palm and left a deep gash. She shrieked another curse and put her hand to her mouth, catching the blood as it started spilling from her palm and trying to soothe the sharp ache.
Image courtesy of mnshots@Flickr; table by the Mentors!
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