Cimmerian Sunrise

Chapter 6 - ***REVISED***

"Ouch!" Breanne hastily jabbed a knuckle into her mouth to take some of the sting away before inspecting it. It was a good thing that she had finished making dinner; she wasn't sure she could take much more pain than she already had. Although stuffing a finger into her mouth was highly improper, since she was alone it did not seem to matter much.

If mother was here I would probably get a long lecture about my unladylike behavior.

Breanne shook the thought, and fiddled with the stove a bit before focusing all attention on her finger. The knuckle was bright red and swelling; and the bleeding next to the nail bed still hadn't stopped completely. Her poor finger was bound to declare war on her in return for the havoc she'd wreaked upon it. Thus far, she had burnt, cut and smashed it.

Glancing around, her eyes fell upon an unused strip of cloth on the large wooden kitchen table; one that she'd absentmindedly left there after using other random pieces to clean the place. Snatching it up, she wound the cloth around her finger, awkwardly tying the ends with one hand and the assistance of her teeth.

"However do you keep getting in the way?" she muttered through said teeth as she finished tightening the clumsy knot. She glanced at the offending finger vexedly. "Only you...no other finger has—" she stopped midsentence and sniffed the air. Something smelled...as if... She turned around and leaped in fright, screaming when she saw that the fringes of her apron were on fire.

Squealing, she raced from the kitchen, through the hall and outside, completely oblivious to the fact that she'd just lost her makeshift bandage. Once outside, her panic increased at seeing a fine mist filtering down instead of the rain that had been earlier streaming. Paying no heed that her legs were leading her in wide circles, she jerkily tugged on the apron strings strapped at her waist, but the blasted knot wouldn't give. Taking hold of her skirts and apron, she tried swishing the fire out.

She screamed even louder as it crawled up her dress, and her eyes darted around, settling upon a muddy puddle. Her mind scrambled as she tried to think of an alternative to utterly immersing herself in mud, she absolutely refused to go to such extremes and instead frantically patted at her waist, swishing her skirt with more fervor. A wave of heat swept over  her tummy as the fire continued to burn. Lifting her face heavenward, she prepared to scream again, but this time it was strangled off when something hit her full force and she found herself flying through the air, and landing on her stomach with a loud grunt.

        Breanne sputtered out the murky water that she'd almost swallowed landing in the puddle, and lifted her head. In fact, it was the only body part that she could lift. The rest of her was covered and held down by something heavy and solid. Her hair hung in drenched, muddy strands that flopped forward, covering her  face like seaweed. She slowly turned her head, staring through the slits between  clumps of hair, though she did not have to do so to know who had attacked her.

        "Kindly, remove yourself from my person," she demanded, in a calm but strained voice. Temper swirled within her and she felt as if she were about to lose control of it.

        "Ye' should be thankin' me lass. Ye could 'ave been burnt to a crisp," Reese bit out, not moving a muscle.

        "The situation was under control," she quietly defended, glaring at him as he held her down.

        "I'd say ye' are wrong 'bout that lass, unless ye' were planning to offer yerself as a main course this eve!" Reese returned forcefully, coming to his feet. Breanne ignored the hand he held out to her and coughed, waving away the smoke from the doused flames before slowly standing up. A small groan escaped her, for his weight had crimped her joints, and now that her panic had abated, her finger resumed its throbbing.