Chapter 14: Miracle Worker

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Vortigern is wide awake by the time the door slams.

Peeking out of the window, her tulip is dead. The stem no longer has any gumption to keep itself upright, and is instead lying on the ground in a heap. The leaves themselves have begun to disintegrate back into dirt from which it came. Looking the other direction, the wooden bridge connecting Vortigern’s house with the rest of the community is lit on fire.

Everything is normal today, it seems.

Vortigern shrugs, and throws on his bathrobe.

Getting out of his morning thorn predicament was easier than usual. Maybe his thorns have finally deemed him indifferent. He grabs the plastic watering can, and fills it up at the sink before embarking to put out the fire.

Two steps outside, and his foot gets caught up in some thorns.

Grumbling, he turns to kill the pesky plant and carry on with his day. Instead, he finds himself staring at it. It’s a pleasant shade of green, barely holding itself up against the weight of the world. The thorns themselves are hardly even developed.

Something clicks. How could have he been so stupid? After putting out the small flames on the bridge with a watering can (he has no idea why the community keeps trying this,) he slowly makes his way back into the house. Niss is still buried in her blanket. Vortigern kneels down, and reaches toward the cover, before pulling his hand back. After some thought, he grabs the blanket, and pulls it back. Niss is sitting upright. She has dried tears streaked down her face.

“Morning.”

Niss tries to pull her blanket back down. Vortigern doesn't allow it.

“Would you like some breakfast?”

“No.”

“You don’t have a choice. I’m eating breakfast, which means you’re eating it as well. Isn’t that how our little truce goes?”

Niss looks at her hands.

“Right. Breakfast coming up.”

Vortigern allows Niss to pull the cover back over her head, which she does so quickly. She’s probably ruining the sheets with her tears, but Vortigern doesn't say anything. He decides that today is going to have a perfect breakfast. It’ll be a great start to a great day, even if he has to force perfection. He searches through the top shelves, until he finds a labelled jar and back stowed away. He fires up the stove top, and heat begins to fill the room.

When he’s finished, he strides back into the living room, a couple plates in his hands. He sets his plate down on the tea table, and pulls Niss’s blanket up again. At least it looks like she’s stopped crying.

“Don’t eat under the blanket. You’ll get everything all sticky.”

She stares at the plate, and then at Vortigern. And then at the plate. It’s never occurred to him that the community doesn’t make these.

“What… is this?”

“They’re pancakes. Like a normal cake, but, y’know, made in a pan.”

“You’re giving me cake… for breakfast.”

Vortigern attempts a smile. “Yes.”

Niss prods her pancakes with the fork given to her, and Vortigern sits himself down to eat his share. She waits until he takes a bite, and then she cuts a neat little square of pancake to fit on her fork. Syrup drips everywhere. When she finds the food to her satisfaction, she takes a bite. Niss shows little emotion, but what does show makes up for everything.

“That’s actually good.”

“Right? The syrup makes it perfect.”

“...Yeah.” Niss takes another slow, bite, grinding her teeth. She dosen’t seem to be one for conversation today. That’s fine. Today’s going to be nice and slow. When she’s done, Vortigern returns to the kitchen, and looks for something else. He comes back out with a couple of hunks of bread, gone stale from aging.

“You want me to eat bread, too?”

“No. This is for the crows, silly.”

Some time later, the two find themselves sitting on a hill, sitting on the overgrown grass that made up the edges of town. There’s a small group of crows gathered around them, poking at the ground where bread once was. Vortigern has almost completely depleted his bread. Niss hasn’t even broken hers apart.

“We were told crows were monsters.”

“And that’s why they hate you back,” Vortigern says. “They’re smart. They’re kind to whomever is kind to them.”

Vortigern runs out of bread. Niss gives him hers. Without any more obligation to watch, she lays back in the grass, looking at the clouds. They are close enough to the thorn barrier that Niss can see it in the corner of her eyes, towering higher than seemingly the empty sky itself. It’s not a very good day for cloud watching.

“Can I ask some questions?”

“Shoot, kiddo.”

“Did all of your plants die off too? Is that why you know so much?”

“Niss, I know very little.” Vortigern says, chucking a piece of bread. “But, yes.”

Niss remains staring skyward. “Did you grow flowers?”

“Lots.”

“Am I going to end up like you?”

Not even the crows speak.

“I believe that if we lead you down the right track, so to speak, you won’t end up quite like me. I don’t think the thorns are preventable at this point, but the lifestyle that goes along with can be changed.”

Niss sighs. “You’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“Only 15 years.”

Vortigern runs out of bread again, and he lies down as well. It’s a beautiful day outside.

“I’m scared.”

“There's nothing to be afraid of.”

“What did you feel when you this started--” Niss pauses, looking for the right word. She never finds it. “-happening to you?”

“Terrified.”

“You said I shouldn’t be scared.”

“You shouldn’t.” Vortigern says. “You have more knowledge than I did at the time.”

The murder of crows take flight, scattering in all directions. Niss and Vortigern sit there on the ground, for quite some time. There’s not much to do today.

“Do you want anything?”

“Huh?”

“Anything.” Vortigern says. “Anything at all. I’m not a miracle worker, but I do have a few tricks up my sleeve. The festival is coming up again. I'm sure I could sneak you in. Maybe even do that ceremonious glove thing that we never got.”

“You’re feeling sorry for me.”

“Niss, I--”

“I want my hair braided.”

Vortigern sits himself up, squinting his eyes at Niss. “Anything at all, and you ask for your hair to be braided?”

“It’s disastrous,” Niss declares, “I haven’t had it braided since I arrived. If I don’t braid soon, then it will get all knotted up”

“Uh, I don’t know if you know this,” Vortigern begins playing with his own tiny ponytail, “But I’ve had literally no experience braiding hair.”

Niss is suddenly in front of Vortigern, sitting upright. Niss has procured a hair tie from the depths of her overall pockets. She flings it behind her, hitting Vortigern square in the cheek.

“You’re going to learn, then. It’s eaaaaasy,” Niss draws out the last word, almost in a whining fashion. “Part my hair into three separate groups.”

Vortigern puts out his hand, and then draws it back in. He goes back and forth for a couple times, until Niss becomes impatient.

“Any year now.”

Annoyed, Vortigern places his gloved hands on Niss’s hair, and splits it up into three somewhat equal parts. When Niss finds this adequate, she begins with the next step. “Okay. Now take the leftmost hair, and cross it over with the center hair.”

Vortigern does as he’s told. “Now what?”

“Take the rightmost hair, and cross it over with the new center hair.”

“Okay.”

“Now just keep repeating those two steps over and over again until you run out of hair.”

“That’s it?” Vortigern asks. Niss nods her head, undoing the small amount of progress made. He re-parts the hair, and starts again. Working slowly, he follows her directions. It’s hard to work diligently with gloves, but he tries his best. Niss stays as still as a board. When he runs out of hair to work with, Vortigern fumbles with the hair band until it’s tight enough that it will hold. He lets go, and Niss inspects the back with her hands.

“Huh. A little uneven. Great for a first time, though. Thank you.”

Niss turns to Vortigern, holding out a hand to help him up. He gladly accepts her offer. She twirls around in the sunlight, her braid following her every twist she makes.

Vortigern wonders if she knows about the thorns around her feet.