Chapter 18-A Warm Night
She left small pawprints through the snow as she worked her way up the hill, doubled over with a rather large bag on her back, huffing and puffing under the strain of the task. Each step seemed to be a herculean effort for the tiny Ratatoskr, the type writer that she delicately carried slowing down her journey home.
Even though it was a small town, one virtually devoid of crime beyond a few hooligan teenagers occasionally getting into trouble, she insisted on bringing her heavy, near-ancient typewriter home from work each day.
"What if someone breaks in during the night and steals it?" She would always reply to any inquisitors, herself knowing that she was being possibly a little overprotective.
Old habits die hard, though, and she did particularly enjoy getting to write some more at home each night, even after a busy day working on stories at her job for the town newspaper.
Stopping momentarily to adjust the bag, the small Ratatoskr continued her march onward towards home. She was close now, just coming around the final bend on the hill, and she couldn't help but sport a smile and let her fluffy tail twitch when someone came into her view, standing at the mouth of where the road broke off to lead up to where she lived.
He was wearing a light jacket, unperturbed by the snow falling around him, and he visibly perked up when he caught sight of her as well. Striding out to meet her, the squirrel-like woman carefully took off her bag and waited for him with open arms, the obvious couple embracing for the first time since she had left for work that morning.
"Need a hand?" He asked in his usual gruff tone, squeezing her tightly and standing back up as they hugged, the Ratatoskr's feet now dangling in the air. She was tiny in every sense of the word, pushing four and a half feet at the most and coming up to just above the man's hips.
"If you would be so kind, Argo!" She replied gleefully, nuzzling into her husband's chest and refusing to let go as he stooped over to pick up her typewriter. He had no issues carrying the both of them at the same time, one in each arm, back up the slope towards their home nestled in the woods.
Neither of them spoke up until they had almost reached the door, the Ratatoskr instead preoccupied with enjoying his body heat and playing with his beard.
"So how was your day, Nora?" He asked. She sighed into his chest as he carried her into the warm house, her bushy tail swaying slightly behind her.
"Happy to be home." Nora simply responded, her husband setting the typewriter down on the table by the front door and discarding his shoes at the same time.
Now able to carry his wife with both arms, he continued on into the living room, heading for the mantle in which a bright, warm fire burned. The furs laying in front of the fire had been placed there purposely, with the advent of winter, the couple tended to spend more and more time in front of the fire. Nora always slowed down and became less energetic during the colder months of the year, and her husband of many years figured out over time that warm fires, warm food, and warm cuddles were all great ways to combat that trait of hers.
She refused to let go when he sat them down in front of the fire place, her small paws which had been so cold in the snow now finally warming up as he shrouded them in heavy furs. Kissing his cheek, Nora cuddled into her husband, the somewhat burly man hugging her right back.
"So," He attempted to continue the conversation, smirking when he spotted her busy tail sticking out from beneath their blankets. "Anything specific to talk about, then? What did you work on?"
One thing Nora had always loved about him was that he always showed interest in her work. It was a modest job at the small-town newspaper; editing, formatting, writing, interviewing and so on, but no matter what she was working on, Argo was always content to listen to her speak of her work.
"Nothing too interesting today." She replied, small hands clinging onto his chest. "Just more editing for the coming edition."
Argo stroked her chestnut colored hair as she spoke, enjoying the feeling of having the woman he loved in his arms. "Good."
"It is."