 Avalon froze and his great ears quivered as he fell under Grim’s enthusiastic gaze.
“I um...I’m n-not a bunny,” he protested with anxious dignity, “I’m a hare!” Why did everyone always make that mistake? They wouldn’t go around calling wolves ‘doggies’ would they? His indignance faded quickly when he realised that his protests had made him the centre of attention. Suddenly acutely aware of everyone staring at him Avalon crawled under his blanket by the fire and decided to pretend they weren’t there. Nimueh diffused the situation with a smile.
“Don’t mind Avalon,” she told the little girl, reaching out to give Grim’s hand a squeeze, “he just gets a bit jumpy around new people.” Tristan glanced at Celidon with an amused smile before drifting over to his grandmother’s couch and throwing himself onto it. He lounged amongst the cushions with a confident carelessness all youth and long limbs, content to leave Nimueh to entertain Grim. He knew from experience how wonderful his grandmother was with children.
Tristan reached for his book. It had slipped under the sofa since his last visit but he found it quickly enough. The prince flicked the pages until he found his place, turned his head to wink and Grim and then resumed his reading. Nimueh watched him fondly for a few moments, her eyes gleaming with unconcealed pride before she returned her attention to Grim.
“Mine too,” she beamed, “green, turquoise and yellow, in that order.” Nimueh extended a long-fingered hand for Grim to take.
“Let’s go and see what I’ve got in the kitchen, shall we?” she asked, warming further to the girl with each passing moment. “Food first, then we’ll measure you and you can pick out some fabric.” As Nimueh led the way to the kitchen at a slow pace so that Grim was better able to keep up. She pushed open the door and sent Grim on through it ahead of her. They were greeted by the smell of freshly baked cakes. Various foodstuffs lined the worktops; a wide selection of treats and pastries, pies and bread. “See anything you fancy?” Nimueh asked as she glided over to the hob where a pan stood simmering. She lifted the lid off the pot and stirred it with a wooden spoon, leaning down low to smell the contents. She straightened up with a satisfied nod. Reaching into one of the overhead cupboard Nimueh got Grim a plate and handed it to her. “Help yourself.”
It was not long before Tristan reappeared, sliding in through the kitchen door as the girls peered over the cakes and biscuits. Sticking close to the worktop he edged around behind them before coming to a stop and reaching out towards the plate of iced buns on the windowsill. Nimueh nudged grim and tipped her head in her grandson’s direction with a playful smile. Suddenly, she whipped around and gave him a light tap on the back of his hand with her wooden spoon. “Looks like we have ourselves a thief, Grim,” Nimmy teased, “what do you think we should do with him?”
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