Oh My, I Messed Up the Story

The snowy months were awful. Abby wasn't sure how a desert dweller like Katie had ever adjusted.

When she asked, her sister wryly replied, "I didn't. Look at me. I'm wearing a sweater, a bathrobe, fuzzy pajama pants, three layers of socks, and am drinking hot chocolate but I'm still cold. I spend most of the day thawing in front of the fire when I have to go outside."

Katie was very well bundled up. Now that she had an infant to care for who couldn't go outside, someone else was filling in her shift at the library. Sometimes Abby joined Al on his rounds checking up on people to pick up the new mother's slack but for the most part she avoided going outside too.

Cold in the mountains sunk into your very bones. Abby was grateful that her sister had found a way to invent fuzzy pajamas because they were a lifesaver. She was nearly as bundled up as Katie was and the cold still got to her too.

Sitting in front of the fire wasn't the problem. It was whenever the front door opened and brought the wind with it. These doors were more insulated that Abby would have imagined them to be—likely Katie's doing with all of her random knowledge from back home—so they did a fairly good job of keeping the cold out.

The problem was keeping the heat in. Fires required a lot of firewood and the only one was in the living room. For safety purposes, it had to be put out at night. The beds were equipped with many thick blankets and they wore layers.

Abby envied her sister a little. She had a human heater to keep her warm as she slept in winter.

She had walked in on them one morning to keep Adam, who woke up early, away because they had a particularly rough night with Aza. The covers were pulled up to their chins so she couldn't see anything but Katie's face nuzzled up against the hollow of Al's neck.

Based on all of the lumps in the blanket, their arms were around each other too. It looked awfully cozy. What she wouldn't give for someone to keep her warm at night. Blaise briefly flashed through her mind before she dismissed the thought. No. Thinking about him wouldn't help.

Eventually she found a compromise. She trained Simba, who had already tripled in size, to sleep with her at night and roam outside the rest of the day.

As the lynx grew it became obvious it was a male; his name had fit him after all. He was now the size of a typical house cat and still growing. His furry heat helped her get over her jealousy a little.

Abby was a bit of a night owl so she let him in around 11 PM and let him out again around 7 AM when Adam tended to wake up. If she overslept, he would yowl loudly to be let out to do his business and hunt.

At this point in the Simba's life she usually only saw him at night. Occasionally she would spot him slinking in or out of the woods near the house during the daytime.

How does one train a lynx to sleep most of the night? With treats. Lots of them. Abby made sure to always have his favorite jerky on hand during the training process. It only took him two weeks to fully acclimate and be waiting for her at the front door at their appointed time.

Adam always wanted to play with the kitty when he saw Abby carry Simba out the door each morning but that was a bad idea for a variety of reasons. He was always antsy by morning and wanted to be free so he might accidentally hurt Adam in his haste to escape.

Al and Katie had been skeptical about letting the lynx into the house even for a few hours at first. Abby convinced them by showing how docile he was with her and by reminding them that he hadn't attacked any of the villagers' livestock even once because he preferred hunting deep in the forest.

Simba was pawing at her shoulder and beginning to meow. It was time to let him out.

With a heavy sigh, Abby left the warmth of her covers and let him out as quickly as she could, running back to her room to snuggle back down before all of the heat was lost. No one else was awake yet, which was common since Aza was born. The whole household could hear her cries in the night. They slept when she did.

Adam came crawling into bed with her about fifteen minutes later. "Aunt Abby, I'm cold. Can you make me some hot chocolate?"

"In a little bit, baby," she mumbled sleepily. "Aunt Abby is tired."

The little boy pouted. "Everybody's always tired cuz of the baby. S'not fair."

Abby ruffled his mop of black hair before kissing his cheeks. "That's just how babies are. You were the same way. If you let me hug you for a little bit I'll even add marshmallows. Don't tell your mom, okay?"

Marshmallows were a special treat because of how long a process it was to extract gelatin from animal bones. Katie had some stashed away and allowed herself a single marshmallow per cup of hot chocolate.

They were much bigger here than the mini versions they usually bought for hot chocolate back home. She had shown Abby the stash in utmost confidence because she would appreciate the beauty of a familiar treat but didn't like Adam to have them because he could eat all of them in less than five minutes.

As long as she didn't let him see where they were hidden and only took out one it should be fine. At least chocolate wasn't a rarity so they could make hot chocolate nearly every day. If they weren't drinking that, they resorted to tea or hot spiced milk to keep warm.

Katie hated tea with a passion but Mariela had sent her some exotic ones from other kingdoms that she thought were alright. But she reserved them for special occasions so she couldn't get sick of them either.

Abby found it funny that she had gotten so sick of tea but was able to drink hot chocolate all the time with no problem.

She had shrugged it off. "You would be too if you had to endure countless tea parties with people who secretly hate you and are talking about you to your face in a 'respectable' way. Since living here I've drunk enough tea to fill multiple bathtubs and none of the memories are pleasant."

The thought of enough tea to fill multiple bathtubs made Abby feel slightly ill. No wonder she was sick of it. Her sister should have been a writer; she had a way with words. However, she lacked the creativity and preferred to read what others had written.