Patience grunted, stretching out her back. She had just finished tilling the soil and retired for a well deserved break. Neat little rows spread before her, ready to accept seeds for lettuce, onions, and tomatoes. The sun remained confident today with only sparse clouds skittering across the sky. She sat on the porch steps, admiring her work on the chicken wire fence around the garden’s perimeter. The wire was always a pain to straighten after being rolled up for the winter; this year she had it tamed without too much frustration.

“This is your daily life?” asked Anax.

“Well I don’t seed a garden everyday, but for the most part yes, all my days I’m mostly working,” said Patience, picking dirt from her olive skin. “Day in, day out, I do something to keep this household running.”

“Tiresome.”

“Well what did you do every day in your first life?”

“Hunted. Socialized.”

“See? That’s not all that different.”

“But we moved to different parts of the forests. You stay in one place.”

“Not everyone can be a nomad,” said Patience, “People like having a place to call home and go back to.”

“What’s a place to go back to, if you never leave it?”

Patience thought for a moment, but failed to come up with a response. She sat silently, staring down at her dirty hands, the bridge of Anax’s snout just in the forefront of her vision.

“I’ve left it before. I’ve been on a couple trips with my parents to visit the city … they did mostly work all the time … to ensure I was well-cared for …” She wiped her hands on a cloth draped over the porch railing. “Oh! I almost forgot!”

Patience sprang up and stomped across the planks, throwing open the back door. She kicked off her new galoshes in the mudroom and skipped a short way down the hall to her room. Snatching her purse off the dresser, she opened it and took out a few dollar coins. With them in hand, the girl stepped towards a closed door across the hallway. Slowly, she opened it. Inside, a zoo of animals greeted her with dead glass eyes in the dim light. Anax hummed at the new sight.

“This was my parents’ room,” Patience explained, meandering around stuffed stoats and otters playing around thick logs. The animals were all arranged carefully around a pristinely dressed double bed. Hawks and gamefowl burst forth from plaques hung on the wall. A lynx prowled in the near corner. A badger snarled at the foot of the bed. Atop a dresser adjacent to the shuttered window, glass cloches housed tiny songbirds. “These were my father and mother’s favorite specimens. Originally they were spread throughout the house but after their passing … I thought I’d put them in here …”

The girl reached into the mouth of the badger, producing a small key. She then pulled out the bottom drawer of the dresser and inserted the key into an almost indistinct hole. Something within the piece of furniture clicked, a panel from its side popped out. Patience removed it and proceeded to extract a wooden box. She set it upon the bed with a soft thump, wisps of dust launched from the quilt.

“What is this?” asked Anax.

“Savings. Most of it I inherited from my parents. Well—everything you see around you is from them. But I contribute a bit of my earnings every time I can.” She dropped her coins onto the mound of bills and similar coins.

“That is a large sum,” the skull remarked.

“Yes, you never know when you might need it,” said Patience, closing up the box. She returned the box, false side, drawer, and key to their previous settings. Leaning back, she gazed over her parents’ room once more before she left. The door closed softly in respect.

“Now to sow the seeds?” drawled Anax.

“Yes.”

She thought she heard a wheeze of air at the nape of her neck. His equivalent of a sigh, she guessed.

The sun hung high over their heads, signaling noon. Patience wiped the sweat from her brow as she beamed over her work. Each row was marked, sown, and watered. Several mirror shards were hung along the fencing to scare birds away. Clucking in frustration, the chickens observed from the wire fence. The treasures buried beneath a thin layer of soil tempted their beaks.

“Agriculture is so tedious,” Anax quipped.

“Maybe, but it’s reliable,” said Patience, gulping from a canteen of water.

“When can we eat one of those?” A misty tendril pointed to the chickens. They scattered upon sight of Anax’s appendage.

Patience twisted her mouth, “Only when one of them stops producing eggs.”

“I can’t wait!”

“Eggs aren’t a terrible thing, though. I’ll make a quiche for dinner.” Quiche was something the Firmins made only for company, but Patience decided to treat herself tonight for a hard day’s work. Granted, she was not totally alone with Anax now present. Perhaps he could have a taste.

During dinner, Patience noticed the smallest of tendrils extend from the fluttering cowl around her neck. It passed lightly over the crisp golden brown crust and across the warm eggy surface of the quiche. It stopped inside the cut Patience made that exposed layers of egg and spinach. Anax retracted his substitute tongue. He uttered a grunt and left it at that. Patience chuckled to herself.

Once the night’s dishes were all washed and stowed, Patience eyed the large tin basin leaning against the far wall of the kitchen. She loved this cottage, but at times she wished she lived in town and had access to proper amenities. Flush porcelain toilets and gas heated bathtubs seemed like a dream. She would give herself to the next man she saw to have a toilet in the house if it meant the treks through the yard to get to the outhouse would end.

She tilted her head down to her collarbone, at least as far as the skull would allow, and sniffed. “I suppose I am due for a bath,” she groaned as she stepped in front of the tub. Foggy tendrils reached out to its handles.

“Allow me,” said Anax as he lifted it onto the floor. It fit just in the corner by the water barrel, there was barely room to step around it for Patience to fill pots and kettles.

“Th-thank you.”

Patience began boiling water in whatever receptacle could be filled and heated on the stove. She stoked the fire to a full burn, more wood at the ready stacked beside the black iron legs. As the first pot came to a bubble, the girl gripped it with two rags. Wordlessly, Anax assisted her once again by carrying the heavier pots. Moreover, he was unperturbed by the searing heat and grabbed the pots straight off the stove. He was proving to be more and more useful.

Eventually the tub was filled and steaming. Patience undressed and let her braid loose. She stepped into the tub, legs melting into a shifting mirage underwater. Scrunching into a seated position with her knees peeking above the surface, the girl soaked for a few minutes. The warmth flowed across her skin and deep into her muscles. Steam drifted away from the surface in a swaying dance. It took a while before she reached for the cloth and chunk of soap she had earlier placed on the seat of a chair to begin cleaning herself.

Soapy water splashed over the sides of the basin. No matter. She will just use it to mop the kitchen floor after she was done. Anax watched Patience scrub all over her body with a trained eye. Patience was keenly aware, but focused on completing the task at hand. Once she was clean from the neck down, she paused.

“Um, do you mind if I dunk my head—you under the water for a second?”

“Go on.”

Patience slowly dipped her head and the skull. Bubbles loudly escaped the cavity of the skull as she felt Anax’s grip keep himself around her head. However, his grip felt different. She resurfaced to inspect it. His tendril now appeared more solid and slick in appearance, like an aspic.

“Wh-what happened to you?” asked Patience.

“When the surrounding humidity increases, I naturally solidify.”

Patience knelt in the tub to feel Anax cascade over her back. Normally he would be a misty cape, tips flicking and lapping like candlesmoke . Currently he was a slimy curtain, his oozing edges creeping down her skin. She rested back into the water.

“I … will have to get used to that.”

Silently shocked at yet another new trait of this creature, she reached under Anax’s skull to wash her face. Still, one of his worst traits was his presence over her head. It did not facilitate hair washing very well. Her fingers started to clumsily comb through her locks when she felt a viscous coil stop her hand.

“I’ll do it.”

“Oh! Thank you!” Patience sputtered.

“It’s unpleasant when you fumble around the inside of my skull. I will wash your hair and scalp for you.”

“All right then,” the girl scoffed playfully. Having less work to do was always appreciated. She reclined in the tub with her legs dangling outside the bath, the waterline lapping at her chin. Shiny swaths of hair floated around her, nearly black in the lone light hanging above the dining table. Anax started with her scalp. It felt strange feeling his jelly-like tendrils run over the burn. He then proceeded raking her hair with several tendrils at once, making short work of it. Slick with soap, her tresses glided smoothly between his ropes. Patience almost felt like a nap, the comforting passes he made through her hair was enough to lull her into a tranquil meditation.

It was not until the bathwater turned a degree too cool that Patience was forced out. It had been a pleasant evening, but all good things must draw to a close. She wrapped herself in a linen towel and stoked the stove once more, drawing the last ounce of life from the fire.

“Anax,” she said sweetly, “since you’ve been such a gentleman tonight, could I ask you for one more favor?”

“What is it?”

“Could you possibly take the tub and dump the water outside?”

“Simple enough.”

Patience delighted in having skirted the banal task of bailing out the tub until it was light enough to tip over. She opened the front door, buckling in the blast of cold night air. Although a convenient floor plan, it was difficult to stay warm with the front door opening directly into the kitchen. She ran over to the tub and Anax formed his two thick arms. He was misty in consistency once more, the cold outside air having dispersed any remaining steam in the room. Without so much as a grunt, he hauled the tub and its contents to the door and tossed the dirty water in a clean flourish, not a single drop crossing the threshold back inside.

“Thank you!” she cooed, slamming the door shut.

Refusing to leave puddles in the kitchen, Patience quickly mopped the floor as she had intended. As with any menial task, her mind began to wander. She had regarded Anax as a gentleman, this creature a man. Initially she did not give her words much thought, but now she wondered if they revealed a shifting perception of the skull. Certainly this creature could think for itself, he had a personality, a history. It did not seem much of a stretch to consider it a man. But then if it were a man, it would make the past hour very awkward. No, he was no more than an enchanted beast. She undid the towel around herself and attempted to dry her hair as best she could. Alas it was to no avail. However, there were still a couple of hours before Patience had to retire for the night, enough time for her hair to dry.

Feeling lighter than she had in days, a waltz overcame her feet and carried her around her bedroom. Perhaps it was the feeling of accomplishment, getting paid for her dolls, having the garden done in a day, the quiche, or it was the relaxing bath. No matter the reason, she felt good. Stopping in front of her dresser, she lovingly stared at all her earthly possessions, reminiscing about each trinket and bauble. There was the ring her mother struck for her out of an old nail, too small for her fingers now, she kept it in a tray made from a damaged turtle shell her father salvaged. Patience guided her fingertips over the red threads running along the edge of a handkerchief laying beside the tray.

Memories of a day long past flashed before her mind. She was sitting on her bed, head firmly planted against the chest of a man. Tears streamed down her face, mouth agape to softly wail and breathe in place of her congested nose. It was the day after her mother was interred. Her one closest confidant held fast by her side, the only person left to comfort her in the world. With him, she released the flood of emotions that she had damned up behind immutable expressions between her father’s passing and her mother’s burial, exactly a year apart. He had spent the entire day with her simply providing company in the house. As she bade him farewell come nightfall, he pressed his handkerchief in her hands.

“Something of mine, should you need a piece of me to cry on while I’m away,” he had said.

Patience rubbed the muslin between her fingers, wondering where her friend was now. As well as she could rely on herself, she ultimately despised being alone. But being with others was tricky, the most difficult part being the search for people one could get along and desire to be with. In a way, she was thankful Anax did not have a worse personality.

Exhausted, Patience flopped onto her bed. The room was warm enough she did not even bother to dress in her nightgown. She adjusted the old kerosene lamp on her nightstand. Misty tendrils crested and fell over her chest with the weight of a fine silk robe. They gleamed in the lamplight and were almost beautiful. Anax’s vapor stretched around her, investigating her form.

“What are you doing?” murmured the girl.

“Examining. Humans are fascinating!”

“I—suppose.”