Witches were not entirely uncommon in the area. Many passed through town on their way elsewhere, and some would peddle their wares from carts. They could often be seen wearing outlandish garments, adorning their heads with unconventional decorations, some macabre. It would not be entirely farfetched for Patience to appear at the store with a skull on her head. Most people who knew of her could assume this was a natural progression of her fascination with skeletons. Some might conclude she was a witch all along.

Witches. Patience wondered if they had a solution to get the skull off her head. Force seemed out of the question. To her knowledge, Anax did not sleep either; so the girl failed to imagine how he could be subdued. Then again, she pondered how many people in the world knew of the true nature of whatever Anax was. Or how many of those people could be found here across the vast ocean far away from Vyugary and his homeland. She would have to endure her time with him.

Patience fixed herself in front of the mirror, lifting the short cinched sleeves of her off-shoulder blouse. It was a little strange changing into her nightgown last night, fortunately her gown had a collar wide enough to slip over the skull. Anax had made some remarks about humans needing clothing for protection, but it was no more awkward than undressing in front of a cat or dog.

Earlier she woke up feeling quite well despite the giant skull over her head. Anax had cradled her head through the entire night and she did not wake with the neck pain she expected. She had felt as if she was sleeping on a cloud, which given the state of Anax’s body, was an apt comparison. It had not been an unpleasant night with the creature.

The only sourness during her night was wrestling with the decision whether to go into town today or not. She could not put off buying essentials. Patience was running low on flour, and she could only go so long without bread. It would be best to simply get the trip over with.

She tightened an old leather brace around her waist, in case she would need to lift anything heavy this trip into town. Outside the sun beamed brightly. The girl stroked a wool cape hung up on the side of her wardrobe.

“Thinking of hiding me?” snarked Anax.

The hooded cape would indeed be an integral piece in completing an outfit with the skull. There could even be a chance no one would recognize Patience in full attire, but alas it was too warm out to justify its inclusion.

“People know me in town. They’ll talk,” Patience grumbled, unconsciously touching her hand to Anax’s jaw.

“Let them,” said Anax.

The girl sighed and pulled on her boots. By the front door, she had placed earlier a flour sack full of the dolls and stuffed animals she had sewn during the winter. Anax formed an arm and inspected them. They were all fairly primitive and made mostly from scrap fabric and old stray buttons, but there was a certain appeal to them. A few of the cloth girls had fine designs embroidered on their smocks. Some of the animals had stitches to suggest hair and fur. Each expressed a bit of the care put into making them.

“Toys …”

“I have to make something to earn a bit of money,” said Patience tucking a coin purse into her pant pocket. She smiled to herself, “I never was the best at stuffing real animals, so I thought I’d stuff fake ones.”

“And the little people? Did your father stuff real humans?”

Patience burst out laughing. The girl continued to chuckle out the door with the sack in tow. Outside, parked next to the water pump was a wooden wagon. She set the flour sack atop a bed of smaller cloth sacks lining the bottom. This was absurd. She might as well continue on with her day’s plans. She can pretend Anax was not on her head at all. This would be like any other day. If she did not pay it any mind, perhaps other people would follow suit, or at least refrain from asking what it was. Obviously it was a skull. That was all. She pulled the wagon into motion, down the path and onto the road.

A cool breeze swirled around them, picking up the folds of Patience’s baggy pantaloons and blouse. The sky had clouded over from earlier. The girl rubbed her arm with her free hand and cursed the weather for being so capricious and for fooling her into leaving behind the cape.

“Cold?” asked Anax.

“I’ll warm up after a bit of walking,” she sniffed.

“I’m sorry I can’t do much for you. My second body does not retain heat very well.”

“It’s all right.”

She was surprised he cared about something so insignificant. It warmed her heart a little. Too many years had passed since anyone expressed concern over her. Condolences are easy to offer at a funeral, but not everyone asks if they could do anything for an individual at any given time of day.

“Can other people hear you speak? Or have I been talking to myself all this time?” mused Patience, feet falling lightly upon the dirt road.

“Yes, others can hear me.”

“Very well. No talking when we’re in close proximity to people then! You can’t say anything unless I address you directly. And you can’t form your mist or any limbs. I don’t need more attention drawn to me.”

“Understood.”

Patience breathed a sigh of relief. Anax was rather accommodating today. Perhaps he was just excited to see the new sights. The floating orb of his eye lazily bobbed around her right temple. Occasionally she felt cold misty tendrils prod her head off to the side slightly, most likely to get a better view of something. She did not ask about it and accepted it; the motions were benign enough.

The pair passed by fields and copses of trees straddling the road. Most were still greyed from winter, but a few spots of budding green dotted the landscape here and there. The girl and the skull strolled by more and more houses until the homes condensed into proper neighborhoods. A handful of people worked on their gardens and exteriors, repairing winter’s damage. They stared of course, but quickly returned to their work without a remark.

The road then whipped into shape, becoming less windy with fewer bumps and holes. It led them across a small wooden bridge, over a gushing stream full of melted snow from the mountains. At last after nearly an hour had passed from the time Patience left home, the ruddy brick buildings of the town of Keaton came into view.

People bustled about, carrying all sorts of goods while dodging motorcars and cyclists in the streets. Patience approached the thickening crowd cautiously. Anax’s white orb skittered around the eye socket, taking in all the hubbub. She wondered if he was enjoying himself. More side-glances passed her way, but nothing worse than that yet. Thankfully she did not see anyone she personally knew or anyone that recognized her.

First Patience stopped by the dressmaker’s to offload her handiwork. The head seamstress, Mrs. Laurence, was kind enough to let Patience sell her dolls in her store. They discovered the women who stopped by for clothing would often purchase a cloth doll or animal for their children. Customers found it quite charming to see these whimsical creations play amongst the fashions. Mrs. Laurence even reserved a spot in her front window to display the best of the season’s menagerie.

The girl parked her wagon below the grand window and took the flour sack into the store. A soft bell chime announced her entrance.

“Patience! I was wondering when you’d show yourself,” greeted Mrs. Laurence. Her hands stilled from removing pins off a mannequin situated near the back of the room. The fine lines etched into her face stretched around a bright smile. Blooming around her were stacks of colorful fabric.

“Hi Mrs. Laurence. How was the winter for you?” asked Patience, relieved Anax was not the immediate topic. She set the flour sack upon the ledge leading to the front window.

“Ah, this one was better than the last. My old bones were very grateful.” She smoothed her maroon dress. “By the way, I like your new addition.” The woman nodded at the girl’s head. “Quite the specimen.”

“Thanks,” smiled Patience.

“I try my best to keep up with the trends but some of you youngsters are too avante-garde,” she muttered jokingly as she made her way to the front of the store. She passed by several finished dresses draped over forms that stood mingling againt the walls. Mrs. Laurence was usually nonchalant about most things. Patience liked that about her. The older woman bent over the sack, her peppery low coiffure lurched forward. She smelt of rose water, a nostalgic scent as Patience’s own mother had used it on special occasions.

“Very nice … good … lovely,” murmured Mrs. Laurence as she took each toy out. She already knew where to place them in her shop. The largest dolls went around the skirt of her newest dress in the window. The animals were placed between bolts of fabric along the wall. A round striped elephant found itself perched on a mahogany shelf next to a tower of boxes. Patience noticed an absence of her creations from last year. Her heart beat a little faster in anticipation of her payment.

“Perfect!” quipped Mrs. Laurence as she stood back and gazed at her full shop. She went over to her till, skirt swishing over the ornate rug in the center of the main room. “You really should stop by more often. I hate holding onto your money.”

“Oh you know me, I’m always busy at home,” said Patience. Truthfully she was never much for dresses, especially not the proper starched ones hanging around her this moment. They reminded her too much of the young women in town living perfect lives, their lifestyles beyond her own reach. So coming into a store full of them simply to chat, no matter how friendly the company was, would always dampen her spirits.

“Suit yourself,” smirked the woman. She handed Patience a modest stack of dollar coins. Patience beamed, enjoying the satisfying clinks of coin against coin in her purse.

“Maybe I’ll see you at the spring festival,” said Mrs. Laurence turning her attention back to her shop.

“We’ll see! Until next time!” Patience left the store, grabbing her wagon’s handle once more.

Patience turned through alleyways until she found herself in the town’s main square. Crowds of people crossed paths, offering the safe shelter of anonymity. Motor-powered vehicles were not permitted to drive through the square so most of Keaton’s citizens found refuge to loiter in freedom here. The girl had to shut her right eye lest she get sick from Anax’s orb zipping around her vision. She spotted the familiar green facade and cream signage of the general store and hastily made her way towards the entrance. She brought in the smaller sacks that lined the wagon, intent on filling them with seed, flour, millet, and rice.

The store was empty save for the owner, Mr. Wells. He did not nose in people’s business unless they offered it to him. Patience was thankful she could shop in peace. Her whole foray in the general store took less than half an hour. She found galoshes that fit and satisfied the empty sacks. She even learned when Mr. Well’s brother would have chickens in at his feed store. Today was a very productive day.