Victor shoveled a forkful of hashed root into his mouth and ate with gusto, hastily swallowing before speaking to her again. "You look it," he commented without heat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his work stained sleeve and took another hefty draught from his tankard. "It's probably the city smoke getting out of your lungs. It always puts up a fight 'cause it don't want to leave. Damn stuff's poison. You'll be right enough after a few days here."

She did look pretty worn, he had to admit. There were bags under his eyes when he had awoken, darken folds that he had chased away with cold water and hard work even as Feather handled all the domestic affairs. Victor also had to admit that the girl was a pretty good cook. She could obviously run a household as well. Whatever her limitations, it was clear as day that her mother and her grandmother had taught her well. It almost gave him pause about the whole idea of her family attempting to set up a marriage between them. Almost. No matter what coat of paint you threw on the wall, Feather was still a girl to him. Far too young and far too innocent to have to deal with the likes of him! No, Victor knew that if he and Feather joined, she would have a meek and miserable life as his wife; anyone he married would have to have far more steel in their spine than poor Feather if they were to survive being married to the ex-soldier.

Tearing his mind away from idiotic notions of weddings (and wedding beds, too, if he were honest), Victor glanced back up at his lodger. She really did not look well. Kijani had the all the markings of a person who had not slept much and what sleep there had been not being the sort anyone would want. Victor had a many nights like that himself in the army. Some few now that he was a civilian, too. Last night's flashback left him with a peculiar sympathy for whatever plight was afflicting the young lady. Her food was barely touched, too.

"Tell you what," he added after swallowing a mouthful of eggs, "You got take yourself a stroll this morning in the back lots. About an hour's walk due south'll bring you to Grandfather Apple, biggest tree for miles around. Apple trees aren't supposed to get that big. Thing damn near rivals most oaks! But you hie yourself there. Get Feather to pack you a lunch, you can take it out of my larder for today." Another helping of breakfast was quickly polished off. "Grandfather Apple's a good place to rest. Clear your head and lungs, if you like. No one to bother you, either."