A soft sunbeam kissed Patience’s forehead, coaxing her eyes to peel open. Refusing to leave her warm bed immediately, she stretched under her quilt. Her head fell to the side and met the gaze of the empty sockets of the skull on her chair. A small sliver of her mind expected it to rattle to life, but of course it did no such thing. The girl sat up to begin her usual morning routine.

After tending to the chickens, the garden, and breakfast, Patience slumped her shoulders when she checked the calendar hanging in the kitchen. Today was marked for cleaning out the outhouse. Slowly shuffling outside, the girl steeled herself for the nauseating task.

Patience retrieved the post hole digger and wheelbarrow from the shed. Arriving at the outhouse, she sighed and heaved her final lament before throwing the door open. She removed the bucket of lime and the catalog missing half its pages, placing them several feet away on the stone path. With a forceful pull, the girl slid the bench from the slot holding it in place over the pit. Leaning the bench against the outer wall of the outhouse, she took the last breath of clean air she would have for a while and started to excavate with the post hole digger.

Digging. Excrement. Digging. Humans really were just sophisticated animals. With the tortuous present being of no interest to her, Patience fraternized with her thoughts. Last night felt so surreal. The skin on her arms pimpled, remembering the contact. Flashes of Anax atop her flickered in her mind. An unsophisticated beast, foreign to the ways of proper human society. They were intelligent, they could learn. Humans were once feral in their infancy. Possibly, the only thing separating their species was a matter of decorum. A large clod of lime and shit dropped, bursting on the ground. It snapped Patience away from her musings.

It took three whole trips of the wheelbarrow to the very edge of the Firmin property line before the pit was acceptably empty. Patience could not wash her arms and legs enough at the water pump despite being prepared with soap. She laid on the front lawn exhausted and reeking, still shuddering at the recollected sight of the quantities of redworm in the manure. Staring up at the clear blue sky, she briefly wondered what Anax would have thought of the ordeal.

“I could have used his strength …” sighed the girl. She absolutely could use his assistance now as she stood and dragged herself indoors to prepare a bath.

The sun slowly descended from its zenith when Patience realized she had missed lunch. The water was tepid the moment she stepped into the full tub as she had decided to bathe outside. The thought of water dirtied by manure going on the kitchen floor made her skin crawl. Luckily, the day was a comfortable temperature. Patience silently thanked the privacy screen made of four trellises covered with ivy that was set in front of the pump. There was little chance anyone on the road could glimpse her nudity.

She continued to scrub at her skin, ensuring any trace of dirt or manure was abolished with soap. When her skin became red, she slid into the water, hair drifting in a mass around her face. Listening to the light birdsong above her drew her away from unpleasant manure-filled thoughts. The white pine cast dappled shadows over her body with its feathery branches. A cool breeze swept over the water’s surface, making little ripples. This was her life, getting by day to day, hard work ever piling under her belt. Its scant rewards being a bath or a seat next to a roaring fire, book in hand. Patience freed an exasperated sigh from deep inside her lungs. At least she could easily tip the water out onto the lawn.

Once thoroughly clean, Patience kneaded dumplings at the kitchen table in preparation for dinner. She enjoyed patting the dough with flour and feeling it between her fingers. As a child, her mother would give her a small ball of dough to play with as she cooked. She remembered her warm face peering down at her, browned and wrinkled from long days in the sun. Then a flick of her thumb to clean off spots of flour clinging to Patience’s button nose. Another cherished memory tucked back into the library of the girl’s mind.

Completed, the dumplings rested in a pan on the table. The soft sound of water cleaning doughy hands filled the kitchen. Despite having her life to herself again, Patience could not help but think of the skull. Certainly the past few days with the creature were challenging. She had found her heart racing more times in Anax’s company than she ever remembered during any other period in her life.The time with him was unpredictable. But it was indeed an adventure.

Settling in the parlor, she studied the bookshelf behind the armchair. For years, her ticket to adventure was found in the leaves of these dusty tomes. Most of these titles were her father’s history texts. He kept his scientific collection in his atelier. The parlor was for leisure, and history was his hobby. A few books on the shelf were Patience’s proud possessions: adventure novels. She loved diving into them to experience the thrill of a new expedition, even though she had read through these campaigns numerous times over. But today the siren’s song of fantastic journeys across oceans and through time was silent. The most fantastic thing of all was sitting in her bedroom chair. She did not have to interpret printed words on a page to hallucinate visions. It was real.

Her mind kept meandering to Anax. The skull was unquestionably fascinating, but all amounts of novelty aside, she felt a small tug of sympathy for it. This was a creature far flung from his home with nothing familiar to comfort him. Patience could only imagine how she would handle herself in the same situation. Perhaps with a bit of guidance, he would have done better. He needed boundaries. Not knowing why she hurried, the girl ran to her room, confirming he still rested on her chair.

“I’m a fool,” she said, turning back towards the front of the house. She then busied herself with cleaning before deeming it an appropriate time to start dinner.

Patience sat by the stove watching the dumplings turn and spin in the bubbling soup. This was her life. Her eyes wandered yet again to the hallway leading to her room. Clearing her throat to catch her own attention, she glanced over at the crusty remains of the last loaf from the bakery on the counter. Her father loved dipping stale bread into soup. She pictured his mustache bouncing up and down as he chewed on the bread, little beads of soup collecting in his whiskers. All of a sudden Patience felt very alone. She gazed at the table meant to seat four. A sole lamp hung over the wooden surface, casting a spotlight on her desolation.

As the sun made its exit, the soup was ready to serve. Patience ladeled a generous helping into a bowl and set it on the table with a clunk. Her spoon tinkled against the glazed rim. Every klink, slurp, and splash seemed to echo in the empty kitchen. The soup and dumplings were satisfying, particularly on a chilly night, but it was missing the spice of company.

More images of family dinners together flipped through her head. Occasionally her parent’s various friends and acquaintances joined them, but mostly it was just the family of three. Although not every meal was consumed in lively conversation, a quiet joy was always present in her mother and father’s eyes. Patience felt her heart ache. She slumped over her meal, limply dipping a crust of bread into the broth, chewing mindlessly on a piece of carrot. The single light above her burned steadily, seemingly extending a warm pitiful pat on her head. At twenty-five, this was her life.

The empty bowl and spoon clacked hollow against the sink. Pivoting around, Patience braced her back to the basin, eyes falling over the kitchen. She exhaled sharply. Trembling fingers reached her temple, tracing little circles. She tugged at her braid and smoothed her pants. Nostrils flaring, the girl marched to her room.

Cold against her touch, Patience ran her hands over the snout of the skull. Her fingers wrapped around its side, lifting it off the wooden chair. Holding his face up to hers, she stared into the skull. Refusing to let her eyes stray from the vacant gaze, she walked to the parlor and sat in the center of the sofa. In the dancing light of the fireplace, she shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. Slowly, she placed the skull over her head.

The jolt felt through her neck affirmed their connection. Patience stood, head bowed, eyes closed, breaths calm. A familiar tickle of mist feathered down her back. A rasp barely distinguishable from the crackling fire kissed her ears.

“You put me back on?” whispered Anax.

“Tell me,” said Patience as she sat on the sofa, “what do your kind do with their second lives?”

Pausing a moment, Anax pondered before he responded. “Most simply go back to their families. They find it difficult to let go, so they return.”

Patience mulled with her knees drawn up to her chest. The last remnants of her father’s work stared down at her, the glow of the fire lit sparks in their glass eyes. Her parents were her world. Ever since they passed, all Patience did was maintain the life they had lived together. She had never gone to see the ocean nor the mountains. She had relied on her parents to bring the world to her, through exotic game to be stuffed, through the museums they took her to visit in the city, through the books they read her. More importantly, they left her with skills, knowledge, and a home. They gave her everything she needed to tread out on her own path and gave her a place to return to. Yet she was here. She had always been here.

“What was your past life like?”

Anax remained silent for a minute and then replied, “I grew up with my mother, father, and two sisters. When I came of age, it was time for me to leave them. So I did. I found a band of other bachelor males and joined. Eventually they left one by one to start families of their own. Until only I remained.”

Family. Patience wanted to keep her parent’s legacy alive, doing everything she could to keep her home as it was when they left it, a past life. Tears fell from Patience’s face as an ache of realization slowly crept through her.

“Do you remember how you died?”

“There was a snowstorm on the mountain. I couldn’t see very well. I lost my footing. I fell.” Anax paused. “I broke.”

“And you were all alone,” whispered Patience. Toiling day after day to keep the fires of a past life burning was not what her parents wanted for her. It was not what they intended the moment they brought her into their home and hearts. They wanted her to make a life for herself. She was their legacy.

Patience held a hand up to Anax’s skull. Warm fingers stroked his mandible. He met her hand with his own, cupping it gently.

“Even if I awoke back in my homeland, I would have little to welcome me,” he said. “So I’m glad I ended up here.”

Patience’s mouth wrinkled into a smile underneath weepy red eyes.

“Well then, let’s make this second life worth living,” said the girl.