"Halloo! Halloo!" The horses' hooves made the earth tremble as they gave chase, the hounds having the scent of their prey. The huntsman and his whips curried the dogs along, giving chase on foot and horse as the rest of the hunting party followed forward. In red jackets and white breeches, they were the very sight of British aristocracy. Gentlemen and the few ladies as were not back at the manor all laughed in great sport as they ran the fox to ground, the field hounds baying and panting in their pack and horses bright with sweat. Was there anything more thrilling than the chase, the circling, the kill? And for weather it was near impossible to ask for any better a day! The sun was bright in the sky, itself clear of clouds but filled with a cooling breeze that had helped carry the quarry's scent to eager noses. James Rossmund, the lord of lands and Master of the Hunt, preened in self appreciation. If his guests thought this was anything of note, wait until they saw the late luncheon prepared for them!

The head of the fox was given over to his friend Charles Burgess, a Captain in the King's Royal Navy and his friend from early childhood. The brush, or tail, was presented to one Miss Elizabeth Provident, a young lady of Puritan extraction whose family as currently unaware of her whereabouts thanks to said Charles. James knew his maritime friend was on the hunt for more than just fox that day. He was determined to give Charles the best wind to his sails as he might, wishing him both victory and the spoils that would no doubt come with it. It was the perfect guise for Charles to court her. Joshua, having come into his inheritance upon the death of his uncle Ebeneezer Scrim (of whom little good anyone ever had to say), had every right to celebrate his new house and lands in the west country, and should a few of his guest find more pleasure in each other's company than in his? Well and good! Who was he to deny happiness to anyone on such a day?!

Content in his lot in life, he led his friends and guests on a slow trot back towards the manor house. The Master of the Fox, a cousin to the local Resident Magistrate whose name escaped James at the moment, brought his horse along side James' gelding. "A merry chase. A merry chase, indeed. Your uncle was never much for the hunt, you know. Never let us upon his lands. Plenty of game to be had here, I dare say, unchecked all these years. Still, a merry chase, sir!" the older gentleman rumbled. He brushed the sides of his waxed mustache with a deer-skin glove casually. "Minds me of the time my father near caught The Hare."

James raised an eyebrow. He was not given over to small talk, but something about the way the ancient had accented the words caught his ear. "The Hare, you say, sir?"

"Oh, aye, I do, sir!" the gentleman nodded. "Being new to these parts you probably haven't heard the tale! The Bonny Black Hare they call her. Most of the village folk down the lane from here will still tell tales of her. Fastest thing you'd ever seen! Outsmarted entire packs of dogs, even ones brought over from the Germanies! Supposedly been around these lands for generations, the same ebony haired coney that no one's ever caught."

Laughing at the delightful absurdity of it, James wondered at the gullibility of the common folk. "Come now, sirrah. You are making merry with me, surely!"

Shaking his head, the RM's cousin chuckled. "I did not believe it myself, Master Rossmund-"

"None of that now!" the younger man chided, bright blue eyes twinkling in the heady rush of camaraderie that the hunt brought. "We are friends here! You shall call me 'Rosie' like all my friends do, sir!"

"And you then, shall call me Earnest!" He shrugged. "Damn silly sort of name, I know, but father did so want to please my mother with it. But I tell you the truth, for I have seen it myself when I was a lad. A hare black as night and faster than any fox or hound I ever did see, who could leap over a man's head be he ever so tall and was cunning enough to run beneath a lady's skirts to hide." Sighing at the memory, it was obviously a recollection of mirth and awe that the older man savored. "Oh, to see that again. May God grant you such a sight upon your lands, Rosie!"

James doffed his riding hat to run slender fingers through his hair, dark and cut curled in the latest of fashions. An attractive if not overly handsome man, his mutton chops quite went to his jaw while leaving the rest of his face cleanly shaven and pink from exertion. He was a stark contrast to the heavier set man besides him, grey haired and well into his years. Though of different generations, James found himself taking quite a liking to their local Master of the Fox. "Earnest? Will you and your wife do me the honor of having dinner with me this Sunday next?"

Astonished by the offer, Earnest quickly accepted. He was only one of a handful of local gentry invited to the weekend's affairs, mostly out of courtesy. It was the done thing. Most of the others in attendance were James' companions from London and further afield. "Mrs. Abernathy will be well pleased, I should say. My wife is the sort who loves when someone else cooks!" he chuckles. "Best not to let her know you are, as they say, 'on the market.' She'll have a parade of local gels upon and down before your eyes to see you well married off, preferably to one her relations!"

Groaning in only partially mock horror, James shook his head. "Her and my honored mother, then. I'm not even in my thirties, only just come into my fortunes! Can I not have some time to enjoy the bachelor's life?"

"No woman likes to see a man unwed," Earnest sagely advised as they neared the house. "Makes them think they're not doing their job properly."

James laughed, wild and free at the jest. He would settle down in his own time, but for now these were his lands and his freedom.

A solitary magpie winged its way through the lonely paths of the forest, raucously sounding a cry seemingly at random as it we'ved around, Under, and over the ancient branches of the Forest Giants. Once, as he came to a relatively clear area of the forest, his beady gaze fell upon an explosion of excitement, a frantic fox desperately trying to flee the hounds and The storm of hooves that pursued. But in the space of time that it took him to blink, his wings had already carried him to the other side and back into the cover of trees, The incident already becoming memories of the past.

An undetermined length of time seemed to slide by like slipstream and the single bird dipped beneath a cluster of leaves and quite suddenly found himself in The companionship of a lonely little cottage, ivy vines and clumps of roses winning in the battle to completely cover the rusty colored bricks of the ancient walls, A feisty strand almost reaching to the small chimney. He circled the little building once, feathertips brushing against the thatched roof, Before he settled on one of the windowsills, ruffling his feathers quickly before beginning to twitch and jerk his head back and forth, observing the interior of the cottage.

Lifting her warm brown gaze from the flames of the fire where she stood retrieving the kettle of boiling water with the hem of her skirts wrapped around her hand, Branna's brow quirked upwards with surprise at the appearance of the magpie on her sill, feathers fluffed up as he watched her warily. Her full lips parted for a moment before she turned her mouth up into a smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. "nervous as ever my lad Magpie." She lilted teasingly to the bird as she carried The black kettle over to her small table in front of the fireplace, lifting it up to pour A small amount of the hot liquid into a carved wooden cup waiting for her, a small blend of tea leaves nestled in the bottom. She heard A small croak of response from the window as she moved to replace the kettle on the hook above the flames and she laughed in response, Spreading out her dress as she Took her place at the table, watching the black and white bird as she thoughtfully let her drink steep.

She was a beautiful woman, this Branna of the woods, Or those who she allowed to ever see her claimed, describing her with a long lithe body and skin that had been generously kissed by the sun, Hair The color of midnight that cascaded past her shoulders in long loose curls, a mysterious aura about her person... But she would more accurately describe herself as a woman who enjoyed the outdoors far too much and wore simple clothing so that she need not worry should her blouse catch on a thorn. Both could be accurate, but she preferred not being vain.

Lifting the cup carefully from the table to her mouth, Branna gently blew on the tendrils of steam that were lazily curling up from the surface of her drink, amusement dancing within her eyes. Testing the drink, she allowed a satisfied sigh to escape her as she discovered that it had cooled enough to not skulled her mouth, savoring the minty sweet flavor that washed over her tongue. Leaning back in her chair, she regarded her visitor with a slight tilt to her head, hair falling over her shoulder with the movement. "I have heard news of a hunting party making merry in the forest today." She mused aloud as if talking to the magpie, Though The bird didn't seem to be paying any attention to her, having started to preen his feathers back into place. Despite this, she continued to talk, Sounding reflective as her gaze drifted out of the open window. "A new Lord has taken over the estate no doubt and is showing his guests some amusement..." The cup lifted to her lips once more and she took a thoughtful sip. "perhaps he would appreciate if I were to provide him with some excitement, Would you think not?" She asked, Not expecting an answer.

A moment of quiet contemplation then saw Branna leaping lightly to her feet with a joyous tinkle of laughter, startling the magpie from her windowsill and sending him flapping into the sky, leaving behind more then a single feather in his haste. "yes! I believe that I am feeling up to having some fun today." She trilled excitedly, placing her cup onto the surface of the table before she kicked off her slippers. With graceful movements, she pulled on the silk ribbon holding her dress in place around her waist, allowing it to slip from her shoulders with a few gentle tugs and stepping from the red fabric as it whispered onto the floor. Gliding to the wooden front door, she flung it open in her excitement, rushing out into the sunlight that spilled over her little clearing. And with each step that she took, her form seemed to shrink, until at the edge of the woods, a black hare dove into the underbrush with a soft rustle.

The hunting party was assembling upon the vast, rambling lawn before the manor.

The house was massive block of ancient grey stone already some number of centuries old, high upon a hill that reigned over the quartered landscape: the moors to the north, the farmlands to east, and the woodlands that ran both south and west. Many of the rooms were unused, especially those within the third floor and all of the northern wing. It had been built with the idea of security, able to house a grand family with all its servants and guards, save that James' uncle had died unmarried and childless. His grandfather, too, had retired to the manor for a number of years after the death of the then Lady Rossmund and had lived in miserly solitude with only two servants to attend him. There were rooms within that had not seen a human footstep within their dusts for near two generations! Those parts that were habitable James had lavishly spent upon. The outside may be cold and stark, terrifying even when lit by the setting sun, but his habitations were now the very height of luxury. He had given some... passing thought as to opening the rest of the manse and restoring it as well. The new owner wanted to be known for entertaining, for hosting, for great parties and grand hunts, so the space would be needed. The cost was no obstacle. Uncle Renfrew had left him a sizable fortune, not having any other male relation to pass it on to. It was just that even the idea of so much work and sorting through his family's collection of brick-a-brac left him just as exhausted as though he had already completed the task.

Grenmere Hall had been in the Rossmund family since the time of its construction. Far from the sprawl of London, its domains were mostly wild and untamed; the acre about the house was green and lush, for it had been kept so both by tradition and the tedious work of singleminded groundskeepers. It was upon what they called 'The Acre' that luncheon tables had been spread out for refreshments until proper dinner later that night. Riding and chatting with Earnest, James smiled in anticipation of a fine meal and the satisfaction of his guests. It was not pride nor nihilism that spurred on his desire to entertain; James had no real stake in becoming the center of the The Season's gossip upon their return to London in April, to be thought of nothing more than some wastrel or passing dandy or (and worse) a libertarian! He simply took delight in cultured conversation, in goodnatured camaraderie with moderate and modest consumption of what life had to offer. James simply wished to enjoy life.

He looked up at the house as they neared it and took quiet pleasure in his great fortune.

"Oh! I say!" Earnest spoke quietly, a hand raised to catch James' attention while slowing his own mount. The old man was peering intently towards where the forest' edge met The Acre, his eyes sharp in defiance of his age. James slowed his horses as well, head cocked to one side and looking towards where his new friend was staring.

"What say you, Earnest?"

The RM's cousin said nothing else at first, so intent in his investigation that he did not wish to answer til he was sure of his senses. Then, very gradually, he pointed a black-gloved hand towards the border ivy. "S'Blood," he breathed out in awe, "We spoke of a wonder... and there she is now."

James quirked an eyebrow. "I... beg your pardon, sir?"

Earnest looked back over his shoulder at James. "The Bonny Black Hare!" he hissed. There must have been something of magic in the hare, for the sight of it had transformed the ancient into a boy again, blue eyes twinkling in wonder and tearing in remembrance. "There, Rosie! By that patch of ivy near that oak stump! It's her. I do so swear by God, it is her!"

James turned his horse, bringing the gelding a length closer to where he was directed. "The devil you say, Earnest." Save that there was a patch of black there, something moving about the greenery that did well look like a hare. He saw nothing legendary to its regard. He was much puzzled as to how the sight of a simple coney could move his newest acquaintance to tears. "You're not leading me on, are you? Some jest for the latest comer to the countryside? Wind me up with a tale and then have me to chase after it?"

"No, no, no!" Earnest whispered fiercely. "It's her. And no other! Have you ever seen a hare so black? So smooth and lithe? After her, Rosie! After her! Should you catch her, you'll be famed about the village, and even should you not the chase is... is... There are no words! Now, go you! I'll call up the others. We'll follow to your lead shortly!"

James pursed his lips as he watched the hare. It seemed to watch him back. He wanted to scold it for its impudence, then scold himself for falling to such fancy that a woodland beast could even be impudent in its simplicity. He laughed aloud at the very thought! Surely this was some prank the RM had cooked up to welcome the Rossmund's return to the lands, and when all was said and done James would arrive late to dinner with his guests enjoying not only his wines but his gullibility as well. Shaking his head, James laughed again. The owner of Grenmere Hall could not bring disappointment to them for their desert. "Alright then, Earnest. I'll to the hare, then," he agreed amicably with a knowing smirk upon his face. He called his beagles to him, Fair Maid and Boarer quick to answer with old Draper following close. He turned back to Earnest with that same confident smile. "i shall see you well before long, I dare say."

And then he was off, the horse surging beneath him and the dogs dashing to the lead in seeking quarry. James laughed gaily again, for what thrill there was to be had in the chase of her!

Hopping through the last of the trees, Branna's nose began twitching furiously as she came out upon a beautifully manicured garden, the solitary mansion looming ominously in the background, Strangely colorless next to the bright flora. She momentarily rubbed her paws over her face as she observed the sweeping lawns, the tables set so carefully in the shade of the flowering trees, the dogs sprawled comfortably in the grass with their pink tongues lolling... The hunting party must have only recently returned. Indeed, there seemed to be several guests still astride their mounts, laughing merrily as they fanned faces or delicately mopped at sweaty brows with silken handkerchiefs. She watched them all with growing excitement.

Two men stood apart from the rest, admiring the architecture of the estate manor from the backs of their own horses, one slender and tall with a halo of dark locks, The other a heavy set gentleman that seemed to be reaching a ripe old age. This latter cast his gaze around the garden, Seeming to be studying the multitude of plant life, Before he suddenly stiffened, Staring directly at her. She stared in return, long ears twitching, and studied his posture, his expression. Could this be the new Lord she had HeardWord of? ...No, He didn't carry himself as one just come into an inheritance. But his companion, as he turned his mount around at something the older gentleman said, his face held the pride she would expect to see on the face of a man who had just tasted freedom. He also stared at her, but his expression did not hold The same awe she saw on the other's face. He looked skeptical.

The men conversed quietly with one another and Branna found herself taking a step forward, Straining to catch their words. But to no avail, Their words didn't carry to her, But whatever had been said had the younger man grinning. He lifted his voice in a call for the dogs, The hounds leaping to their feet with eager obedience and bays of excitement. It had her heart leaping within her chest, Her muscles tensing with anticipation of the Chase. As he he heeled his gelding forward in her direction, she dug her claws into the ground, twisting back towards the forest and leaping into the cover of the trees, ready for the hunt.

Flying over the forest floor, Branna thrilled over the stretch and bunch of her muscles, The rapid tattoo of her heart within her chest, The feeling of the air as it washed over her body, and the pure joy of the speed of her run. If she could have laughed while in this body, she would have gaily allowed her happiness to escape her in peals of mirth. Instead, she found that she had to be creative in releasing the excess energy, bounding around trunks of trees, Diving through clusters of bushes, And taking every opportunity she could to tease The hunters. Several meters into the forest now, she spotted a half collapsed tree that was leaning against its neighbors, Darting beneath it's rotting wood and turning sharply to the left, diving within the cover of a blackberry bush. Skidding to a stop, she lifted her ears as she listened to the howling of the dogs and the pound of hooves as their master followed closely behind, his voice mingling with the cries with whoops of encouragement. She stood, quivering with the heaving of her breath and the twitching of her nose, until one of the dogs came crashing through the bush in pursuit of her. She twisted nimbly away from his snapping ivory teeth, darting beneath his squirming body in the direction she had just come from. Kicking down with her back legs, she leapt over the second hound on the other side of the bush, Confusing the poor creature to no end as this resulted in his collision with his companion, the canines yelping with surprise as they became tangled within the branches of the bush she had just fled.

Speeding away from the struggling beagles, the black hare seemed to consider her actions before she suddenly turned in the direction of the approaching horse and his rider, Gaining momentum as she raced across the open ground. At the last possible moment, she tensed The muscles in her legs, pushing away from the ground in a powerful jump that sent her arcing high into the air, she had timed her leap so at the pinnacle of her arch, She crossed over the exact point between the man and his gelding's neck, claws scraping the leather of his saddle. For the briefest of instances, she was able to turn her head just enough to catch a glimpse of the man's face, His piercing blue gaze, And then she was falling to the other side of the horse, Landing with a soft huff as the air was pushed out of Herlungs. Without a backwards glance, Branna sped onward into the forest, heading into the direction where she could smell the sweet scent of a spring fed pond, Thoughts lingering on the Lord of the estate, The blue of his eyes...

Yes! She thought gleefully as she ran. this is quite definitely fun

"S'Breath," James wheezed as he watched the hare. If this wasn't the beast of Earnest's stories, it was certainly related! The way it moved, cut past, jumped over the slightest obstacle, confounded the two lead dogs... it was incredible! His gelding reared back too late as the hare jumped over in an impossible leap over the saddle, James fighting at the reigns to keep his mount in check. Then they were off again, pounding along the half forgotten deer track that led them deeper and deeper into the wood. He vaguely recalled the solicitor telling him of an ancient spring house that used to be somewhere on the property, too far from the house to be of use and with little more than stubs of stone walls that marked where it once stood. It was somewhere in this direction, he remembered. Was that where the hare laired?

Fair Maid and Boarer crashed into each other again as they gave chase, the hare continuing to confuse them by running beneath their legs and over their rumps as it made its dash. James had to laugh at the sight of it. This wasn't a chase! It was a circus! She was a streak of black fur that would quickly out distance them with a few quick bounds, only to reappear again from some side hedge or from behind some tree as though to ambush them! And then she would be away again, legs flying and eating up the yards, up and over fallen logs and beneath the bracken. Was there ever such a creature as this?? If he caught it, James was not sure he'd have the heart to kill such marvelous creature. It would be like tearing up a masterpiece or taking sledge to sculpture! The idea of capturing it arose in his mind, giving him a greater cause to smile at the prospect and greater purpose to his heels as he urged the horse onwards.

Then they were riding downwards, diagonally across a low hill so filled with trees and brush that he could scare see more than a few yards out. Relying on the two younger dogs to sniff out the hare was proving futile, even as she proved them fools. Youth and vigor were not working. Time for experience and cunning. "Draper! Go to, boy! Go to!" The ancient hound raised his nose to give a great sniff and then was off like a cannonball. Draper was bred to the trails, the finest beagle a man could ask for, and while the dog was advancing in years it knew the hunt and the game far better than any other. He might not be able to overtake the hare, but he could definitely smell it-

James was unable to complete the sentence for the world was pulled out from under him. The remains of the stone wall had appeared as if from nowhere, startling his mount into stopping cold and throwing the rider forward and over. The young master flew over his steed's head. A distant part of his mind became petulantly preoccupied with the fact that his hat had left his head at the same time. And then he was soaked. Cold spring water seeped into his clothes and boots even as the pond's water broke his fall. Sputtering, James attempted to rise, only to slip on some rock beneath the surface and fall backward into the waters again indignantly. Behind him, the horse whickered as if in amusement while the two younger dogs with tongues out jumped into the water with him joyously. Draper slowly worked his way downwards towards them, the old hound's sad face bearing the cast of one who is not amused.

Frantic steps gradually slowing, sides moving rapidly with the speed of her breaths,, Branna listen to the distinctive sound of water being churned and splashed with a satisfied feeling blossoming within her chest. For these sounds meant that yet another hopeful Hunter had been fooled, lured into thinking that he would achieve quite the prize. She couldn't help but begin to feel slightly smug, Temptations to be cocky creeping up on her like the weeds she now rested within. Scratching at a stray itch, She gently hopped to a vantage point atop a nearby rock that lay Half buried in the ground, moss soft beneath her toes. Stretching up on to her hind legs, She watched as the young beagles frolicked happily in the water around their master, Spraying the unfortunate man with droplets of icy spray. He looked slightly exasperated, droplets adorning his sideburns and curls like diamonds, His attempts to get up right stymied by the slick algae of the spring. Amusement bright within her chocolate colored eyes, She briefly ran her front paws vigorously over her face and whiskers, Using this to show her thorough excitement.

Distantly, the sound of approaching hooves could be heard, Mingled with the shouts of eager anticipation of the rest of the hunting group. Her long ears lifted with interest at the sound, Quivering slightly as she listened. Undoubtedly, the Lord wouldn't have sensed The approach of his friends yet, The hope of rescue it would provide. It made her want to laugh out loud at the idea of leaving him to struggle in the pond by himself, What fun it would provide. With this thought, she sprang into action, leaping from her granite perch and speeding around the edge of the water, keeping Justin sight to attract the attention of the hounds. They alerted to her position almost immediately, Stiffening with surprise before baying with the thrill of the chase running fresh in their veins. She listened to them scramble to catch purchas with their claws, Sending another cascade of water in the direction of the unfortunate master, Feet quickly finding soft ground as they followed her fleeing form. She quickly circled back around them once, Darding through paws and legs before she began to lead them in the direction of the approaching hunters.

Slipping this way and that as he tried to get his footing, James fell back into the water again to end up soaked completely. As preoccupied as he was, the young gentleman could not help but spy the black hare as it leapt along the edge of the pool only to kick mud directly into his face. Fair Maid and Boarer were off again after a shocked moment. The two dogs' pursuit caused even more water and filth to be kicked up, coating their already disheveled master with more mud. Draper, loyal to the end and not having been given the command to pursue, lay down upon the clean moss and waited for James to pull himself out.

Finally standing, his jacket dripping and boots sloshing, James stared after where the hare had gone... and laughed.

It started as a chuckle, worked its way up into a guffaw, then passed by bubbling giggles into outright merriment at his situation. His blood was singing and his mind racing! Such a chase! Such a creature! James could not think of a single moment when he had felt more alive! With a joyous whoop, he flung himself backwards with a splash to float upon the waters of the ancient spring and stare up at the approaching oranges and pinks of dusk. Earnest had been right! There were simply no words to describe the thrill of chasing The Bonny Black Hare! Every time he tried so much as to even think of the words that might capture the essence of the hunt, he simply began to laugh out loud again! And here he had thought that the entire thing was some sort of jest on his guests' part. He had to admit he was right that there had been a joke on him, but the mastermind behind it was the rabbit.

After several moments, he righted himself again. Grinning like very much the fool, he called the commands to the younger dogs. "Fair Maid! Boarer! Leave off! To me, hounds, to me!" At this Draper raised his ancient head and rose to quietly pad closer to the water without jumping in. The younger two answered their master's call as well, only bounded back into the pool to frolic and spray water about with their antics. James just laughed again at this. He rose his attention towards where he had last seen the Hare run, and still not hearing nor seeing the hunting party, cupped his hands to his mouth to call out to her. "By God's Grace, thank you for the sport, coney! The day is yours! I'll come and play again some other time then!"

Unknown to him, the hunting part gathered together by Earnest was in something of a pickle. Most of them were used to hunting game across open fields or along well maintained roads or ancient paths long established through the forests. In these older woods, untouched for many decades by human or horse, the narrow deer trails barely allowed a single rider to pass, much less an entire line of them and their dogs and beaters! Earnest himself was a fine horseman, an experienced hunter of many years who knew his quarry and their lairs, and even he was having a time of it! And so when the hare appeared at the end of the trail, looking for all the world as though it were a knight charging down upon them with a lance, chaos ensued. Earnest gave a shout of triumph, which set of the pack of dogs with them. The horses were then spooked by the sudden baying of beagles that were almost right beneath their hooves thanks to the tight path and thorny bushes about them. The riders, in turn, called out in protest and shock as their mounts reared and danced nervously about of their own control. By just appearing, the Bonny Black Hare had managed to turn a well turned out hunting party into moppled mass of confusion!

Ground soft beneath her paws as she weaved between the trees, joy swelled within and lightened her heart and her steps, confidence singing in her veins. She hadn't had such excitement in evading a Capture in what felt like ages, Each attempt losing the excitement in steady increments. This time, with the hot breath of the dogs on her back, The smell of the horses, the intense expression on the young Lord's face, feelings that she thought had been lost to her were reviving somehow and she felt younger by years. With the joyous laughter and shouts of exhilaration echoing from behind her, Branna felt almost invincible.

With a small shower of broken twigs, the black hare leapt through a tangle of low bushes and out onto a barely perceivable deer run, Turning sharply to the right to point herself directly in the path of an approaching group of humans, dogs, and horses. Panic comically ensued at her sudden appearance, Several of the mounts whinnying and prancing or kicking out there front hooves with alarm. Those on their backs cried with dismay, Clutching at reins and kicking with their heels to try and control the frightened animals, but all the attempts made seemed only to alarm the equines farther. The only ones that seemed even relatively unstartled by the situation were the hounds, Appearing excited contrast to the rest of the party as they howled and barked, jumping forward into action quickly. With a fresh surge of adrenaline, Branna twisted her body just enough so that she clipped the lead dog with one of her back paws before jumping back into the forest, helpfully lleading The group towards a small clearing amidst The trees.

As she vaulted over a clump of twisted vines, a daring and reckless idea suddenly struck Branna, Causing her already quickly beating heart to increase in speed. But when she broke through the trees into a small meadow filled to the brim with wildflowers, she didn't hesitate as she slowed her pace a fraction, Allowing one of the beagles to catch up to her momentarily. As his breath grew hot on her fur, The proximity of his teeth to her skin became dangerous, she suddenly put on another boost of speed, darting out from beneath the hopeful hound's nose just as hiss fangs were beginning to close, Listening to the sound of a snap as they caught only empty air. Such Energy flooded her limbs at the new game, She could barely contain her excitement, loopingg around a trunk on the opposite side of the clearing and immediately repeating the process.

The dogs were less amused with her antics, growling as she continued to slip away from them at the last moment, Running circles around their paws and forcing them to run in ever increasingly difficult patterns through the flowers. One poor beast finally gave up at one point, pink tongue lolling out of his mouth as he panted at the edge of the trees, sitting down on his haunches as he watched the remaining duo continuing the Chase. Branna was continuously increasing her recklessness, delaying the time when she would dart away from danger, putting herself into increasingly difficult situations that nevertheless made her blood sing with excitement. She had just bounded away from an attacker, allowing him to just get his teeth on her flank, When a horse unexpectedly broke into the clearing, startling the hare. She had almost completely forgotten that there were riders following the dogs in the thrill of her game and The surprise of the mount's entrance made her muscles jump, paws momentarily stumbling over the ground. She recovered after a breathtaking instant, Turning her trajectory in the opposite direction, but the delay had given one of the pursuing dogs the advantage. Sharp pain suddenly cut into her back right leg, Jerking her momentum to an abrupt halt as she fell hard against the ground, sharp squeal issuing from her mouth at the sensation. Panic instantaneously replaced the excitement, dread clutching at her heart, and Branna felt The caress of death at her back for the first time, her foolish actions suddenly crashing down around her.

what have I done!

Claws scrabbling at the ground in her fright, Creating small furrows in the soil, the hare began to twist and struggle against the hold of her captor. Intermittent squeals continuing to break from her throat. She was beginning to lose herself to the animalistic instinct for self-preservation when her humanity screamed at her from within to break free, Arguing that she was smarter than this. Fighting to control her breath, She rotated the top of her body, struggling against the sharp pain it sent up her leg, and sank her long incisors into the muzzle of the hound, hoping against her fears that it would do the trick. She was rewarded with a sudden loosening of the jaws, teeth slipping from the wounds they had created, and a yelp of alarm and pain from the dog. She collapsed heavily to the ground, momentarily overwhelmed by her sudden freedom, But was brought back into reality at the barking of the dog's companions, The surprised shouts of the humans. Gathering the last of her strength, she shot off of the ground, Ignoring the throb of her back leg as she called on the her muscles to provide her with the speed she needed as she fled into the undergrowth. Trying not to think of the trickle of heat sliding down her leg that was her blood, She disappeared into a bramble bush, Shoving past thorns and twigs to dive into the protection of the waiting mouth of a Long forgotten burrow.

There was a loud howling that reached James' ears from where he waded in the ancient pond, a baying that meant only one thing: the pack had found its quarry. Before he could say word one, his three hounds were off to join the rest of the dogs. They were bred to follow, to hunt. If that was where the rest of the pack was going, they could not help but follow, even if it meant leaving their master chilled and soaked in the evening air. All three dogs were quickly out of sight. There was simply no way for James to even try and follow, waterlogged as he was. The muddy bank would be unforgiving if he tried it, leaving him only the opposite direction to head in.

Remains of a stone ledge connected to the ruins of the wall allowed him to extract his body from the mud and algae, standing upon the ancient rocks to see his horse calmly foraging grass some yards away. James chuckled and shook his head. "Fat lot of good you've done me this day, Ninny," he chided in good humor. "I hope you are enjoying your repast, hm? A nice snack of nettles and long grass to fill you up, you kedge? Well... Not that I can blame you, Ninny. I wouldn't have wanted to jump into that pool either. Not that you gave me much choice, mind!"

He spent several more moments just standing there, resting and trying to gain his breath again after the exertion of pulling himself out. As Ninny moved about, he noticed how the gelding was favoring his one rear leg, limping slightly as he grazed from nettle to nettle and shrub to shrub. Now he understood why the horse had thrown him! With a bad leg, there was no way the mount would have been able to clear the hurtle and so had stopped short instead, throwing James unintentionally. James sighed to himself, shaking his head. There was no riding out now. And as the baying of hounds had faded beyond his hearings, he was also quiet sure the hunting party had passed him by, leaving him to his lonesome and quite unsure as to where he was exactly. During the chase, he had been so excited that he had lost track of where he had been heading. As the sun was set below the level of the tree tops, frog and crickets beginning their nightly chorus, the direction his house lay in was shrouded in mystery. Attempting to find his home in the dark was a folly he did not intend to pursue. The young man wanted to curse himself for being so silly, curse his horse for its bad luck, curse his dogs for leaving him... and instead, he laughed again.

"Well, Ninny," he sighed, "Looks like we're roughing it tonight, old bean!" The prospect did not dim his spirits. For one thing, home could not be all that far away. This section of woods wasn't so large that it couldn't be crossed in a single day; if he got it right, he would either be home in an hour or reach the country road that wound its way to the village in two or three hours. If he was truly unlucky, James would wander for half a day until he came upon the running stream that cut its way through the forest, a sure sign he was going the wrong way but would allow him to simply follow its length downstream to one of his neighbors. Another thing, James was not a timid man. True, a night under the stars in sopping wet clothes with only a lame horse for company would be uncomfortable, but it would not be unbearable. Especially as he still had a flask of brandy tightly pocketed within his waistcoat! He did have some concern for his guests, that they might worry for his safety, although once they saw him hale and hearty if weathered and worn the next day, they should forgive him as they shared a good laugh. Such were the friends that he had.

As he rested upon the stump of the ancient wall, a memory stirred. The solicitor had pointed out several key features as landmarks, including both this spring and... What was it again? The crofter's cottage! Of course! Supposedly the simple stone house predated both the spring house and the mansion itself, and was last known to be standing intact. If he could find it, that would be a far more preferable place to spend the night than huddled against a tree trunk or curled up on wet moss. Even if the roof was long gone, its walls would at least shelter him from the night's breezes and give him a place to start a fire! Provided, of course, his lucifers would still light...

Checking his pockets, he found the matches had retained their protective wax coating. His pipe, too, was intact and the tobacco miraculously untouched within its leather wallet; he was glad he had followed his late father's advice to line the inside of the pouch with paraffin! Pulling himself up and over the wall, he found his battered hat and headed for Ninny to pick up the reins. "Come on, then, old fellow. Let's see what we can find, hm?"

Squeezing out of the exit she had made on the other end of the tunnel that had helped with her timely escape, Branna heaved A small sigh of relief, Shaking the dirt from her fur before tilting her head back the direction she had come and caulking her ears to listen. Distantly, she could hear the baying of the hounds intermittently punctuated by a whinny, But the sound seemed to be steadily distancing themselves from her, heading in the opposite direction. Her body sagged gratefully at the information, ears drooping back against her head, And she wearily turn her body in the direction that would take her home, starting off with a prominent limp as she favored her right hind leg.

The journey was slow going and evening began to creep up on the world as the hare wove her path through the trunks of the trees. By the time she hopped her way out into the clearing outside of the cottage, the last hints of twilight were fading in the western horizon. With what little strength was left to her, Branna concentrated on her body, stretching out her legs, lifting herself onto her hind feat. Gradually, but quickly, her body began to grow, the thick black fur receding, long ears shrinking away. As she came to the small well near the front of the building, she gratefully leaned against it's stone lip with her human hands, thankful to be back in her own skin once more.

After a long moment, With the quiet of the night punctuated by her steady panting, a laugh suddenly bubbled up within her, Breaking past her lips in a breathless tinkle. Supporting her weight with her hips against the stone, she lifted her hands and rubbed them over the skin of her face, through the ringlets of her dark hair, and laughed. "you foolish lass." She managed to get out between bursts of giggles, Shaking her head slowly. "almost got yourself killed over a bit of fun. But oh, what fun it was." Continuing to chuckle with amusement at her own silly game, Branna lifted A bucket from beside the well up to the opening, letting it drop into the darkness in a sudden descent until she heard a splash as it hit the water below.. Waiting only a moment, she reached for the handle to the left of the structure, cranking it with a steady rhythm until the wooden container reappeared, Full to the brim with clear liquid. Reaching out, she pulled it to her, resting it against the top of the wall. Cupping her hand, she scooped a mouthful of the cold liquid passed her waiting lips, Savoring the sweet liquid as it washed away the dry feeling on her tongue. With another grateful sigh, She lifted the bucket into her arms, Taking every limp she received in payment for her foolishness as she carried it into the stone cottage.

Placing The bucket of water onto the stone hearth of The fireplace with a soft thunk, The young woman reached out to carefully touch the outer surface of the kettle she had left to hang over the flames, pleased when she discovered that it was still warm. Before she lifted it from its hook, she threw A couple of fresh logs onto the glowing embers, Provoking their gentle flicker into new life. Satisfied with the quickly growing flames licking eagerly at the fresh wood, Branna retrieved the water and took it over to her table, setting it onto the surface before she retrieved a shallow dish and a handful of clean white bandages, a washing cloth, and a small bottle of wine. Before sitting down, she carefully bent and retrieved her discarded dress, letting The soft material fall over her naked body and cut the chill that she had started to feel. With nimble and well practiced fingers, she tied the ribbon at her back into a bow, Straightening out her skirts before returning back to her task. Lowering herself into one of the chairs at the table, she went about filling the bowl with water, pulling another chair closer to her, And propping her injured leg onto it's supportive surface. With several grimaces, she carefully began to clean and inspect her wounds, wincing as several of The punctures broke open anew.

"you deserve every one of these." She spoke to herself as she began disinfecting the cuts with the wine, biting at her lower lip as they stung and prickled unpleasantly "that dog nearly took your leg off. You should be grateful that didn't happen."talking aloud to herself seemed to be helping with the swell of guilt she felt in her stomach and the pain of the bite on her leg, Keeping her going as she found some left over herbs to make a poultice to spread over her wounds, Bandaging the lower half of her calf and the entirety of her ankle in clean strips of cloth. "there." She breathed, Tying off the end of her wrappings. "feeling better already." She mustered up A small smile, for it was truly beginning to feel a little less tender, even allowing her to put her weight onto her leg for a short time as she stood, collecting The things on the table to put them away.

James led Ninny along the narrow deer path, losing it several times and ending up in briar patches that tore and ripped his fine clothing. It was vexing, but he kept his good humor each time he had to retrace his steps. Besides, it was his own fault he was in this predicament, haring off on his own after the black hare without a care and not watching which directions he was led off in. Not only should he have been paying attention then, he should also have been paying better attention when the solicitor went over the surveyor's maps! Who else should he blame? His uncle for bequeathing him the land? The horse for throwing him when it was lame? The hare for leading him off? His mother for-

"Now that is tempting," he chuckled to Ninny as he ducked below a bough. "How I would love to lay all of this at my mother's feet, the oh so prim and proper Widow Anna Rossmund, sovereign of the salons and matriarch of the Season! Her and all of those preening popinjays she parades before me. Bah. As if I'd marry any of those lifeless poppets! What good their beauty, you tell me, what good their bearing and standing if they have no spirit?!" He reached up and stroked the gelding's nose affectionately. "You don't mind me rambling like this, old fellow, do you? Course not. Weight's off your back and there's food aplenty for you everywhere we step. Sorry about the leg, Ninny. We'll see you right whenever we find ourselves upon our doorstep, alright then? Blame my mother," he laughed again sadly, "How I wish it were possible!"

The moon had risen high above the trees by the time James admitted that he was well and truly lost. He didn't think he'd been traveling in circles, at least he hadn't come upon the spring again with its crumbling walls, but it was hard for him to actually tell. Not having come upon the green of his manse nor the road that bordered the forest on two sides, he could only conclude he was headed towards the stream. On the upside, that also meant that he might be headed in the right direction of the crofter's house! He certainly hoped so, as his wet stockings and stiff boots were starting to rub blisters across his feet, making walking both painful and difficult. Not a superstitious man by nature, James still could not shake the the eerie feeling of walking by his lonesome through the ancient woods, the sounds of nighttime animals made all the more eerie by their obfuscation. Owls hoots, bats shriek, deer stepping through the underbrush. He could easily see how such forests gave birth to ancient legends and fireside tales. Any animal crashing through the shrubs could be a pack of goblins coming to ambush the unwary. The flittering of winged creatures might be fairies upon the wind, casting spells and making mischief. A snorting boar might well be mistaken for the snoring of a troll. The tired mind could play such tricks on the unwary, lost soul. James was not afraid. He considered himself a man of reason, and such things belonged solely to fireside tales and children's nurseries.

All the same, he found some relieve when the scent of a wood fire reached his nose. It was faint, but grew in strength the further along he went. It was puzzling, James admitted to himself, for he had no idea where such a fire might be coming from; if he was right, neither the village nor his manor house were in this direction, and there were no other neighbors in easy walking distance. Not unless he was really lost! Still, a fire meant warmth and people. Even a poacher could be forgiven if he was shown the way home. When James came across the small clearing with the ancient stone cottage, its chimney venting thick smoke into the moonlight, he was all the more confused. It certainly looked like the description he was given of the crofter's house. Only it was supposed to have been an abandoned ruin, unused for generations. So, if this was the ancient structure that was supposedly deep within the section of woods that he owned... who was in it??

"Not that we're in any position to complain, eh, Ninny?" he whispered to his horse in an amused tone. "Let's see if they have some soup for me and some hay for you, old fellow."

Raising one hand to his mouth, James called out. "Halloo! Halloo the house!"

Lifting quizzical eyes from the pages of her book, Branna rose from her chair by the fire where she had just sat down to read before retiring for the evening. Limp to her gait, she went to the table, lifting a small lamp from the center and moving over to the fire, collecting a stick from the edges to light the wick. A small flame quickly bloomed into life on the oil soaked fibers, illuminating the living space with a brighter glow that Chased The shadows from the walls. Closing the glass door with a soft squeak, she then headed for the front door, hesitating for a moment with her fingers above the handle before she finally pulled it open, looking out hesitantly into the darkness of the night, Lifting the lamp out in front of her.

"Oh!" She gasped softly as the glow washed over the small clearing and onto a rather familiar looking face of a young man, outlining the edges of his dark locks and intense eyes. She had only seen that face once before, and then only briefly, but it had been able to make such an impression upon her that she believed that she would never be able to forget it again. Before he could notice her hesitation, Branna allowed a bright smile to blossom onto her face, teeth a flash of White in the darkness. "good evening Sir. It's rather late to be taking a walk, is it not?" She teased lightly, gaze drifting to the beautiful gelding at his side, eyebrows lifting a little. "Or should I say, Late for a ride. It's dangerous to take a horse into such a place when it is dark. They might lame a leg in such conditions." As she spoke, She made her way down the front steps, crossing The short expanse of lawn before coming to a halt A respectful distance away, preforming what curtsy she could without causing further injury to her leg.

Her dark gaze studied the young Lord subtly, Making note of his good looks and stylish trim he had given to his hair, the rich texture of his clothing... Or what she could see of his features beneath the generous amounts of mud and algae that had undoubtedly come straight from the pond she had led him into. She suppressed the grin that threatened to split her lips, making an effort to remember to offer him a fresh set of garments and a washing cloth, if not a hot bath. It was the least she could do with her being responsible for his current situation.

James nearly stopped dead at the sight of her! Was this the sleeping princess beyond the thorns, so eager to meet her knight that she woke early to bid him welcome?! He was far more used to the painted and powdered ladies of the Season in London's salons and parlors, and so the blinding obviousness of her natural beauty shone through all the more. A gentleman who was as honest with himself as he might be, he knew it well that this wasn't love. No, this was attraction. And, God's Breath, what an attraction it was. Shaking himself from his startled hesitation, he fell back on what he knew best: humor.

"Late?" he chuckled warmly. "Why, no! Tis early! I thought I would beat the sun at his own game and wake him up instead! And no worries for poor Ninny, here. He's already thrown a shoe to keep me from riding him any further. We seem to have lost our way, miss. On my own land, no less, which must make me something of a ninny myself. Thankfully we have found you! Although I must express my surprise. My uncle's solicitor made no mention of renting the cottage, didn't even think it was habitable. Did you know my uncle well?" James thought of his mount's care before his own as he tied the reins to a nearby tree stump upon the green, allowing Ninny a fair reach for grazing. The saddle and blanket he removed to make Ninny more comfortable. "Oh, and might you have a curry comb or something I might rub Ninny down with? I'd like as not for him to suffer too unduly in the night."

Turning back about with a twinkle in his eye, James' light humor faded to frowning concern as he espied the bandages upon the woman's leg. Small splatters of red could be seen despite the dimness of the light and the shadows cast by the moon. "And I see Ninny's not the only one to have gained a bit of a limp, now. Are you alright, miss?"

Laughing gaily at his humorous statements, Branna Took a near instantaneous liking to the young man, Warming to his manner of speech and his fresh sense of humor. She allowed her shoulders to relax, the uneasiness knotting within her stomach to unravel, and dismissed any nagging thoughts that he had discovered her secret fly from her mind. Genuinely smiling now, the wood wife gave her head A quick nod to his inquiry after a brush for his horse, Turning to begin to step towards her cottage, But found herself hesitating at his interest in her relationship with the former owner of the property.

"honestly, I never met your uncle in person more than once, and that was only a brief thing.. It was more that I overheard him chatting with some of the grounds keepers about fixing up this old place and offering it to any interested party. I decided to look into it, though I had to do a lot of the work myself." Carefully weaving The truth together, even she thought that it sounded like a plausible and continuous story, Though she had looked into living in the cottage much earlier then when she had heard the conversation about the possibility of its rentabilty.

'Poor Ninny... I hope I didn't cause his lame leg.' She thought as she finally turned fully towards the Little cottage, limping over as far as the front steps and bending down to open a small plainly carved wooden box. Lifting the lantern to let a puddle of light spill over the contents inside, she quickly located the simple wire brushed used for horses' coats and scooped the tool from its corner. Using the lid of the box as leverage, Branna managed to get back on her feet steadily, Letting the container clothes with a soft thud before making her way back over to the young Lord, Offering him the brush.

The smile that she was quickly growing quite used to suddenly faded as his gaze trailed downwards and her leg need only to give a small twinge for Branna to accurately guess why it had slipped away. Her own smile diminished, though it lingered around her full lips, and she momentarily glanced down at the white bandages encasing her leg. "this injury is nothing that my Lord should concern himself over good sir. I ended up in a bramble bush earlier this day and the thorns were sharp. Pointed teeth in one's leg does Smart quite fiercely, I will admit, but the pain of it has lessened considerably since I clean my wounds. I am fairing quite well now, my thanks to you for your concern." She smiled gently, Reinforcing her statement, Before returning to another subject before her injuries could be further looked into. "but I can see that Ninny and I are not the only ones to have made a mess of ourselves this day. You look as if you have taken a dip in a pond and forgotten to take your clothes off. May I offer you an opportunity to remove your wet things, Put on a fresh pair of linen, and perhaps have some hot tea inside with me?" Then her smile brightened somewhat, her head tilting a little to one side. "but I think before I allow you inside, I should like to know the name of such a man that tries to outrun the sun, Enjoys riding when it is quite dark, and enjoys making merry in a pool of water without wearing proper swimming attire."

James laughed again, a bright sound in the darkness with clean, even teeth exposed. "My manners appear to have been drowned as well it seems. James Rossmund, at your service. And please. I am no more a Lord than poor Ninny here is!" Chuckling apologetically, James gave a bow that mocked himself more than anything else. He turned to brush down his horse with great care, speaking to his hostess as he worked. "I inherited his lands and coin, not his title. Not until I marry. So I remain a wealthy brat living off the fat of his uncle's bequest. Grenmere Hall is my domain and property as are the woods and lands about it, so say the solicitors. After today I daresay a certain hare would contest all of that!"

For all of his banter and light hearted cheer, James worked at his horse's care with a careful eye. One might mistake him for a stablehand or groom what with how exacting he was in seeing to the gelding's care and comfort. Finally satisfied, he tossed the saddle blanket back over his mount's back to keep off the worst of the night's chill. "Hang in there tonight, Ninny, and tomorrow it will be barley oats and rye for you, I promise!"

Turning back to his hostess, he smiled again. Her beauty struck at him, like seeing the sunrise break through the clouds after the worst of storms. It was not an angel's face that peered at him from its frame work of luxurious black curls; surly no angel ever had such mischief twinkling in her eyes, nor such a gloriously tanned complexion! More over, he did not think that a messenger of the most holy God would stir more... earthly passions. Why could not the paraded cattle his mother continually forced by his eye look more like this woman?! BE more like this woman?! For as he stared at her trying desperately to think of what he might say next, James was forced to concede that it was not just looks alone that drew his attention. It was the way she carried herself, the self assurance, the confidence! And how she spoke as well. Past that country accent, he could well see the cunning and intelligence she possessed, betrayed to him by her humor. It made James want to sigh in regret and frustration, for he surely doubted ever finding such a treasure among the eligible candidates his dam had insisted upon, and marriage with a woman from the lower classes had never crossed his mind.

Finding his tongue, he gestured at her leg. "You call the thorns teeth as though these briars and brambles meant to bite at you," he teased, "Perhaps they were jealous at finding a flower far more fair in their midst? But come now! You have my name now, and I find myself the poorer without it! Might I not have your name to fill my empty purse?"

"Come now dear James!" Branna formed his name with great care, enjoying the flavor of it on her tongue as she spoke the sound. "Is not the bramble thicket also a living creature? Why then should it not in envy of we of flesh and bone desire to have jaw and teeth?" Amusement danced brightly within her earth colored eyes, Finding herself in much enjoyment over their conversation. It had been many years since the last opportunity had arisen for her to play with words the way they were doing now, the thrill of it almost as enjoyable as the company. "But I digress, For you have asked me of my name and I have certainly received a fair offer for it. I am called Branna Windwood. It is quite the pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Rosmond." She lilted, smiling impishly with her teasing formality.

Turning once again towards the cottage, Branna gestured for her visitor to follow her inside., climbing the steps and pushing open the door to admit entrance. "Now, I wouldn't be a good hostess if I allowed you to catch cold by making you stay outside. I insist that you come in and get cleaned up. I will make you something hot to fill your belly."

Placing the lantern back into its place on the center of the table where it added the warmth of its glow to the surrounding room, the raven haired Woman busied herself with collecting several small pouches of herbs and a clean cup from the cupboard, placing both onto the table and preparing the same blend of tea leaves she had steeped earlier that day, the sweet smell creating a pleasant perfume that made her smile. "how fortunate for you that I was preparing to make myself a last cup before I retired to bed." She stated matter-of-factly as she collected the kettle from the fireplace, Once again using her skirts to take hold of the hot handle. Steam accompanied her pouring water into the fresh cup and the one she had had from earlier, creating a pleasant aroma of mint and sweet herbs that filled the room. "We'll let that work it's magic whilst you change."

Collecting the well Bucket that she had placed by the fireplace earlier, not having the strength to return it outside, she added the remainder of the hot water into the cooler contents, intending to offer it to James so that he could wash up. She plucked a clean cleaning cloth from the stack she had gathered earlier, holding it out to the young Lord with another gentle smile. "you can use my changing screen over there in the corner. I will fetch you some fresh clothing to wear. I think I still have something that is close to your height that I was mending to offer as trade in the village." She mused, Gaze drifting to a small pile of cloth in a basket she had next to a shelf in the kitchen.

James entered and was rather surprised to find the interior of the cottage in even better condition than the exterior! It was easy enough to imagine that the home had only just recently been built and occupied by this woman rather than having stood for several centuries to house generations of families. Even the sweet smell of dry grasses and hays seemed to indicate a roof recently thatched. The aroma of the hot herbal tea only helped to complete the sensation that he had somehow traveled back in time. Even her dress was somewhat dated, he had to admit, although it certainly made her none the less lovely for it.

"Magic, is it then, Miss Windwood?" he chuckled as he accepted the bucket and cloth. "My nurse would tell me tales of dark woods and faeries and witches and goblins at bedtime when I was a babe, warning me away from such black and unwholesome acquaintances. Though I must say that if this is magic... a warm fire, hot tea and a pleasant face in my time of distress? Then may I always welcome such enchantments!"

Slippin behind the screen, James drew off the wet and algae-slick clothing from his body. It was like peeling his way out of second set of skin by the way the fabrics clung tightly to his frame. His nose wrinkled as he realized just how badly he reeked of still water and mud. Still, it could have been worse: no doubt there were ancient middens and chess pits dug out here somewhere, and he could just as easily fallen into one of those! The warm water in the bucket was refreshing as it washed the chill from his body. The process did dampen his enthusiasm a little. Trying to clean the worst of his misfortune off in the dim and shadowy light was difficult at best, removing some of the cottage's charm and making him regret not having access to his own well lit bathing room with its scent soaps and oils. James clucked at himself as he thought of it. A few hours ago he had been looking forward to a night roughing it in the woods! Now here he was, sheltered and warm yet critical of the amenities! He had to admit, it was rather ridiculous of him to be comfortable one extreme to the other and yet find little satisfaction in the compromise. In fact, that longer he pondered on his own absurdity, he had to laugh out loud.

"So, Miss Windwood!" he gaily called as he scrubbed behind one ear, "It's a fair stroll to the nearest village from here, I imagine. What is it you do out here on your own?" A passing thought made him pause. His uncle had been... eccentric. "I say, you're not one of my late uncle's gamekeepers are you? I know the old man wasn't keen on people hunting or fishing on his lands so I shouldn't think it all that strange he'd hire some help to keep poachers away. Is that what you do here then?"

He peeked his head out from around the screen. "It is just you, I surmise? No husband that will come barreling through the door demanding whose horse is outside and whose boots are by the door?" James retreated again to finish his washing. "If there is, just tell him the horse is a sow and the boots are flower pots. With laces. All the rage in London or something."

Eyebrows lifting a little at the sudden sound of his laughter drifting out from behind the screen, Branna's lips turned up in a momentary smile, gaze turning curiously in the direction of the shadowy corner before she gently shook her head, turning back to the basket of clothing she had fetched from by the door. Fingers nimbly picking through the assorted articles of garments, she quickly located the set of soft wool pants, a white colored shirt, and a set of dry undergarments. Satisfied with the quick estimates she made with their fit and Jame's height, she limped over to the changing screen and draped them over the top.

"Those will be fresh things to put on." She explained, giving the clothing a pat to draw his attention to their location.

Turning away towards the kitchen, Branna had just made it over to the cupboard and placed her hand on the soft wood when James called out to her, inquiring into her means of how it was she lived in such a place. She found herself frozen to the spot for an instant, dark eyes widening somewhat before she pushed the expression away, replacing it with a thoughtful twist to her lips just as the man poked his head out from behind the screen. She laughed brightly at the curious lift to his eyebrows and his teasing questions about her marital status.

"you have need not to fear dear James." Her laughter tinkled like bells. "No man has been brave enough to ask for my heart and I have yet to find one strong enough to handle it, let alone my stubbornness. I'll faint of shock the day I meet a gentleman that can handle my teasing for more than a moment."

Reaching into the cupboard, she extracted a small bag of potatoes and another of carrots, a pouch of herbs she used for soup, and a loaf of bread she had baked earlier that day. Retrieving a peeling knife she set to cutting away the skin of the potatoes, enjoying the process. She thought carefully over her response to his earlier question, dropping the curling brown skins into a spare bowl on the counter.

"I'm a deft hand with the needle and I am able to make a decent profit off of sewing clothing and helping the farmer's wives with mending tears. And when I find that there is a lack of things that need to be amended or made, people are more than willing to let me help them with their cooking. I've heard that I make quite the tasty soup and bread.."

Every now and then, her eyes would trail over to the changing screen as she spoke, talking far too much, but also trying to give the impression that she was doing well for herself nevertheless.

"and what of you James?" She asked brightly, moving onto the next potato. "have you a wife that will be having a sleepless night worrying about the whereabouts of her husband? One who might come bursting in to have my head for keeping you here?"

Behind the screen, James raised his eyebrows at her comments. "Dear James," she had said. That was... intriguing. He mulled on that small endearment as he finished drying off, listening to her answers attentively and grinning when she inquired as to his own marital status.

"A wife?" he chortled teasingly, "Oh, my. Yes. Great ogre of a thing. Eats servants for breakfast and virgins at luncheon and tea. That's why we moved to the countryside, you see? Much too hard to find virgins in the city. Not to mention good servants." Dried, he began to dress. Surprisingly, the clothes were a goodly fit! True, they were hardly the neat and flash fashions that he normally wore and still a far cry from anything in his tailored wardrobe. Yet they felt as well as they fit. Worn to the point of being comfortable, her loaned garments made James feel even more at ease. He found it easy to talk with Brenna, and the words flowed out as he answered her questions.

"But in truth? No. My sainted mother" and the words dripped with sarcasm "has paraded no small amount of genteel ladies before me in the hopes of making a match. Pasty faced, spiritless things that look so much like sticks that someone cruelly glued pillows to in all the wrong places. i'm sure they mean well enough and are perfectly pleasant in their own... bland ways. All the worse for it is that my mother is about as subtle as one possibly could not be regarding the whole affair. There is nothing quite like the sensation of being treated like some prize bull to be sold off for studding. And the way she refers to these young ladies, in private of course, always in private, is little better." He dropped his voice and began speaking in an exaggerated farmer's cadence in mockery. "Look'r at that one there, by, sure to give plenty of milk and calves, so she will. Be sure 'n' check her teeth first, though!"

It wasn't often he voiced his opinions regarding his mother so openly and bluntly. Perhaps it was the clothes he was donning, or the atmosphere of the cottage itself, but James found as though the expectations of his wealth and position in society were lifted from his shoulders. In Brenna's company, he felt... warm. Welcome. As though in some strange way he had just truly come home.

Stepping out from behind the screen in his borrowed clothing, James favored his hostess with a genuine smile. He held his arms up, palms out, so that she might see how well the clothing fit. "Well?" he quipped as he turned around for her inspection. His damn, curly hair was all stuck about at every angle for want of a comb, making him look quite foolish. James didn't seem to mind. "What do you think? Will I turn heads as I walk down Drury Lane? Am I fit for a night at the opera now? Or perhaps for a spot of dancing at the Duchess's Ball?" At this last, his smile brightened even further. With all the solemnity of being at court, he bowed to her with his hand extended upwards. "My most stubborn and teasing lady. Would you be so kind as to honor me with a dance?"

Lips twisting down as she listened to James talking exasperatedly about the bland variety of women that had been marched beneath his nose, Branna couldn't help but admit that he had good reasons for not being married; especially with his description of thier being bovine and he the bull. She felt a twinge of remorse for the situation his status had forced him into, perhaps cutting into the potato beneath her knife with a touch more force then the action merited because of the strong emotion. She took a deep breath, giving her head a gentle shake. What good would it do getting upset over something she herself had no control over?

At the sound of movement near the changing screen, Branna turned a face that brightened with a genuine smile in Jame's direction, happily satisfied that the clothing fit his body like it had been made for him. True, they were rough and nothing quite as elegant as the clothing he had been wearing earlier, even if it had only been made for hunting, but this somehow suited him more, fitting into the image of his tangled curls and wouldn't backdrop of the walls of the cabin. He bowed to her, as if at some formal gathering of silks and jewels, and she let out a peal of delighted laughter, wiping her hands on a towel on the counter and stepping out into the middle of the floor.

"I would be more than happy to receive the honor of a dance from his Lordship." Branna lilted pleasantly in the voice of an honorable lady of the court, sweeping out her simple skirts and dipping into an elegant curtsy. "And why should I refuse? You are dressed in the most fetching of ensembles. I simply must know the name of your tailor. She must be a fabulous seamstress"

Stepping to him, she placed one of her delicate hands on two his broad and strong shoulder, offering her other hand for him to take, teasing smile curling up the corners of her mouth.