Percy's back popped as he rose with a groan. He swung his feet over the side of the bed, and stretched. As he woke, he blinked clarity into his eyes and looked around the room.
The cauldron sat bubbling in the corner, fresh with a stew. He staggered as he rose, and steadied himself against the wall. He dragged his feet over to the boiling pot, grabbing a clean bowl from the table in passing. He filled it up, and took a deep breath.
Corn chowder. Again. He sighed as he sat down, and swallowed it down. It wasn't bad, and in truth, he enjoyed the flavor. The first year he had been here, at any rate. As he finished he rose, his belly now full, and forced his feet towards his well-worn boots in the corner. He slipped them over his feet, and lowered his back onto the bed as he closed his eyes.
Just as he was between wakefullness and dreams, he heard Bertha's hooves trod against the porch. He opened his eyes just in time to see her shadow cross the table. The minotaur peered in the door way, and smiled as she saw him.
"Oh, good. You're awake. Want to get the chores done before the heat rolls in? I was thinking we could go to the lake again today. Get some washing done, maybe enjoy ourselves. Would you like that, Percy?"
Percy's chest rose, and for a moment his lip trembled. He almost told her. But then his resolve left his lungs in a sigh, and he said "Sure, that sounds great, Bertha."
The minotaur's tongue escaped her lips, and lapped over her nose. Her nostrils flared once, twice, and she took a step within the shack. The floor squeaked beneath her weight, and Percy looked up in time to see her approach the bed.
"Percy, what's wrong?"
Percy sat up, and ran through the routine. He smiled. He told her he was fine. And then it was time defer the subject.
"Do you think the salmon might bite today? I bet those would taste really good roasted over the fire." he said, as he balled his fists on the bed and rose. But just as he was almost to his feet, Bertha's massive hand pressed against his chest, and pushed him down against the hay mattress.
"No, somethings wrong. I can smell it on your sweat. Percy, talk to me-please. I won't ask nicely again." she said. The minotaur's lashes flicked, her tail twirling along her thigh as she regarded him. Percy tried to rise, but Bertha's grip stayed firm. He sighed again, and stared at the ceiling.
"Bertha, listen. You've been really good to me. Really. And living here the past three years has been wonderful."
The minotaur stirred, her hips shifting as she looked down at him. Percy turned his head, breaking the gaze. He stared at the headboard of the mattress they had shared, and swallowed hard.
"But, well. Isn't it time for me to go? Aren't you sick of me already?"
The hand upon Percy's chest lifted, and Bertha turned. She snorted, and lapped her tongue gain.
"No, I haven't. I like to think I've made that rather obvious," she smirked, "every night, at that."
Percy felt his face tinge, and he sat up from the bed. He crossed the room, and wrung his hands in front of his chest. He turned, but couldn't bring himself to look at Bertha. "I mean, that's not the problem. It's, well. It's me. It's never been about you, Bertha."
Bertha rose, the frame of the bed slamming against the wall as she made her way towards the door. Percy looked up as she came towards him, her nose flaring as she tilted her head. Their eyes met for a moment, and then her hand met his shoulder as she shoved him aside. Percy flew for a moment, his ass slamming hard against the wood floor as Bertha made her way towards the door. She scratched her rump through her overalls, and shrugged.
"Fine. Go then, Percy. I told you that you could stay as long as you like, didn't I?"
Percy stood, and shook the dust and dirt from his pants.
"Bertha, wait. I-"
"I said go, Percy. Your things are by the door."
The porch shook as her hooves slammed onto porch, the stalks of corn parting in her wake. Percy ran towards the door, and called out to her.
His cries fell on deaf ears. He fidgeted for a moment, and then looked down at his bag. Full, with a hatchet by his side. He slung the bag over his shoulder, and hefted the tool into his hand. He walked onto the porch, and took a step towards the gate. He turned, and spotted Bertha gathering corn. He cleared his throat, and called out to her.
"It, uh. It's been nice. I'll miss you, Bertha."
Bertha tilted her head up, and hefted the bag over her shoulder. She stared at Percy a moment, then snorted and stamped the ground as she turned her back to him. Percy turned towards the gate, and held a hand over it a moment. His mind raced for a moment over every evening he and Bertha had shared together.
He lowered his hand, and pushed the gate aside as he walked the road once more.
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By the time the sun began to dance on the edge of the horizon, Percy's step had slowed. Three years in the fields-and Bertha's affections-had strengthened his back and legs. His heart weighed heavily in his chest, and kept his pace a step slower than it would have been.
He stopped, and looked down the road. He was far from his home village, one he'd not seen in far too long. He wondered if his parents thought him dead, or if they remembered him at all. He walked towards the edge of the road, and sat his pack down. He dropped himself atop it, and stretched again.
As he looked down at his boots, caked in mud, he thought of Bertha. Of the farm house, of the chores. Waking in the morning to gather corn, and the soft warmth of her breasts in his hands as he milked the minotaur. The years hadn't been so bad, but they'd passed quickly. He hefted his hatchet, and looked at himself in the mirror sheen of the blade.
He wasn't the milk-white boy he'd been when he'd left Golgotha. The man that stared back at him was tanned, with an angular face that had dropped the fat of youth. Stubble clung to his chin and cheeks. Percy forced a smile, and the man smiled back with an exhaustion that seeped every pore. He put the hatchet aside, and stared down the road.
His legs were sore, and his feet ached. He stood and gripped his pack, and staggered towards a nearby copse of trees. After pressing forth a bit, he came upon a clearing. A rotted log lay fallen in the center. His feet crunched on dead leaves and twigs. He approached the log, and laid his pack atop it. He turned,and gathered what kindling he would need. He shaved back from the log with his hatchet. He turned and reached into his pack, and brought out steel and flint.
The fire caught, and soon roared before him. He reached into his pack, and brought out an ear of corn he'd packed before he left. He held the stalk near the flame, and watched as the flames licked against it. The smell made him think of her, so he pulled the corn from the fire and ate before the memory consumed him further.
He pulled out a cotton blanket, and spread it upon the ground. He moved his pack towards the top of his bedding, and turned over and laid his head down. The stars shined brilliantly in the night, and he counted the constellations he still remembered. His eyelids drooped once, then again before the grip of sleep took him away.
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He woke to the sound of the cauldron boiling over.
Percy snapped his eyes open, and jerked awake. He sat up on the mattress, his heart pounding in his ears as the realization he was back at the farm house sunk into him. His pack, neatly folded over with his blanket atop it, sat by the door as it always had. Percy rubbed his eyes, and looked up.
Bertha sat at the table, a mug in her hands she took a drink from. She smiled, and crossed the room, her hooves clacking against the wood floor as she walked. She thrust the mug forward, and the smell of minotaur milk filled Percy's nostrils.
"Taste this." was all the minotaur said as she held the cup. Percy scrambled backwards on the bed, and looked up at her.
"You found me."
