PSL: Moonshine and honey ((For beeboy))

[alittlehinky]

Spring has just begun its work in the foothills of the Appalachian mountains. The trees are dotted with bright little green leaves, paler and more golden than they will be in a few weeks, but unfurling bravely in still-chilly air to soak up the sun. The last real frost was only ten days ago, and the mornings are still so cold a person can easily see his breath. Honestly, this is Cricket's favorite time of year, even if his legs ache when he first gets up. It makes starting the fires under the stills a real pleasure, and tending them in the little hollow where the Bondurants have set up is warm and peaceful.

He's got his lunch in a tin bucket with him as he makes his way down the path into the hollow, leg braces clinking softly with every step. Here the forest is dense with brush, and the first wildflowers are starting to bloom; mostly wood sorrel, dandelions and violets. There's a natural rock cleft where the stills are placed, and the Bondurants have built a roof overtop of that, and covered it with moss and sod to create a little shack for their illicit activity. Vines hang down over the entrance to obscure that some, too. The chances of revenue agents finding it are pretty slim. They don't have the time to comb every square inch of mountain in search of these things.

But a person lost in these woods and looking for shelter overnight could certainly stumble across the shack, and it's a much better alternative to sleeping on the forest floor.

Comments

no problem! glad to see you back.

[alittlehinky]

"Well, I reckon we can do that," he smiles gently. "There's strays and housecats around town. How d'you feel about chickens? As long as we keep 'em off your bees, I mean. They're friendlier than you'd think."

Cricket likes chickens just as much as he likes cats, which is a little unusual. He'll still eat fried chicken, or scrambled eggs, but he'll pick up and cuddle a bird, too, if it'll let him.

He takes note of how Hugh moves around and does the work. His hands are delicate in a way Cricket would normally associate with wealth and privilege, but in this instance, he doesn't think that's the case. Captivity, maybe, or city life, where the opportunity to work with his fingers hasn't come to him yet. He's young, too. There's no shame in it, but Cricket will be very careful about what he assigns him to do, making sure it's within his abilities before he leaves him to manage on his own.

But he's a smart kid, clearly, and eager to try, and that will take him a long, long way. It works, and aside from the fact that what they're doing is technically illegal and Cricket is therefore contributing to the delinquency of a minor, it seems like a decent pastime for the boy.

When Hugh blurts out his warning, Cricket is just about ready to sit down and take a short break, content that the stills are running right. He turns and blinks at him, surprised, and then frowns in thought. It's a different twist on the 'people handling orphans' Hugh mentioned earlier, but after consideration, Cricket can see how it might happen. A boy with bees in his belly is strange enough, either someone wants to keep him out of trouble or make money with what he can do.

It's already occurred to Cricket that Hugh could earn a decent living with his bees. Farmers will pay to have hives brought into their fields and orchards. It wouldn't be right for Cricket to use that, try and make the kid into a cash cow. He wouldn't force it, and he certainly wouldn't treat the kid like a slave and pocket any money for himself. If anything, he'd like to see them collaborate, like friends.

If there's anything at all more to being a a Peculiar that might be deliberately misused, Cricket's oblivious, but he knows where money is concerned, people get mean.

"You know what they call this place?" He sits and beckons Hugh over with a little smile. "The Wettest County in the World. There's these stills all over, even though it's against the law. Because in Franklin, we're stubborn, and we don't do what outsiders tell us to. We don't lay down for nobody."

"And it's hard for revenue agents to find these places," he says. "On account of no one local will help 'em, and the mountains is so old there's holes and caves and trails and hiding-places everywhere. Hugh, there ain't nowhere better for you and your bees to hide."

"On top of that, if you're part a of us, we look after our own. You look a little like me. Same eye color, same hair color. We tell people you're my kin, and ain't no one gonna question that. And if your bees are helpin' people--well, I think slow, careful introductions would be safer, to make sure no one's scared, but I reckon people will always protect the ones that are kin to 'em, and helping 'em."

"It wouldn't just be me helping you, and people who cause trouble for this community, they get run out of town real fast."

Or worse. But Cricket doesn't want to tell the kid if strangers come in after him they may well get murdered. That may be a little too much.

Once again I have to apologise; RL slammed me this month. If this is too late, no worries at all!!

[beeboy]

"You have chickens around here?" That earns an open-mouthed gape for a moment or two. Hugh's never even seen a chicken in person before, and he's clearly up for the task of meeting one, judging by the eager gleam in his eye. He hasn't had any experience with farm animals; the only birds he knows are the wild ones, more rare but occasionally spotted here or there back in London.

Putting trust in "Normal" people is a risk. Not because Hugh assumes the worst of people; in fact, he could be considered hopefully naive at times, with the way he'd willingly approach strangers around the city. It's because even the most well-meaning people might sway if presented with the right scenario.

But he's not really sure there's any other option than to continue trusting this stranger. Hugh knows he can't run and survive in the woods forever. And he doesn't want to do that. The prospect of living with Cricket is much, much brighter.

He moves to sit beside the older, drawing his hands into his lap and listening to him. It's when Cricket gets to the bit about them passing for kin that the boy blinks, eyes widening slightly.

"You'd really tell people we're kin?"

It startles him -- not in a bad way. It's simply a concept he never really pictured for himself. Even just to play the part of someone's family member is nothing he'd ever imagined. His bees are the only family he's ever really had, or has any memory of. He can't hide the hopefulness there in his expression, eyes wide and yearning, even if shyly, towards the idea.

[alittlehinky]

Cricket doesn't own chickens himself, but the Bondurants do, and he's pretty sure they won't mind introducing Hugh to them. He's going to need to talk to them anyway, if the boy means to stay around. He works for them, and lives close by, and these are their stills he's got him working on. Technically, Cricket should've just run the boy off as soon as he saw him, but...well. He didn't, and he thinks his reasons were sound, and he's pretty sure he made the right decision in retrospect, too.

Of all the things for Hugh to latch onto in what Cricket's just said, the bit about pretending to be kin isn't what he expected. And it says something. Cricket's got no parents, no siblings, and his one living relative close by only remembers who he is about half the time. He's old enough now that that doesn't matter so much. He can take care of himself. But he was a child not that long ago, himself, and being a lonely child is awful.

He breaks into a smile, one that's surprisingly soft and warm considering he only met Hugh a couple hours ago. "Sure thing," he tells him, and ruffles his hair gently. "Have to come up with some excuse for your accent, but I reckon I could do a lot worse'n having a kid full of bees as a cousin or a half-brother."

There's nothing more important than home and family, as far as Cricket can tell. You can't take in every stranger, of course, whether they need or deserve it or not, but offering feels like the right decision here.