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Even though I was, architecturally-speaking, obligated to support her, I still felt like I was actively providing her comfort. The thought of that warmed me down to my threshold.
My Tana was in danger, and even as sturdy as I was, I’d never felt more helpless.
“And…well, there’s a pretty decent chance you may be, you know, my son. Of sorts. See, a lot of things happened in that grove and there was this perfectly-positioned knothole on this really sexy tree and the mead was flowing freely-” he gestured in a rolling circle with his hand. “You get the point.”
“I have no name but yours, Tana. I am your faithful guardian and protector, nothing more, nothing less. I am your door, and I love you.”
If I hadn’t already been made of wood, I’d be stiff as a board at the sight.
Wrapping my round brass protrusion in a soft cloth and a firm grip, she started polishing my knob with slow, smooth strokes that stirred something deep in my wood.
