Delilah is not Huron, but Shuswap, or rather Secwepemc, and from the other side of the continent, but still, she is Native, and her hide skirts will probably tell you that
( ... )
Alice looks over at the strange woman, still trying to walk through the snow as daintily as possible--silly, really, but habits die hard, she supposes.
"Am I alright?" she asks back in a small voice with a soft British accent, feeling stupid already for parroting back the question to the woman--who looks Native, but certainly not like any she's met.
She gulps. Maybe this is a bizarre version of some sort of the afterlife.
"I suppose I'm fine," she says finally, trying to sound firm.
With the snow shoes, Delilah is a little bit higher than Alice - in war terms, you'd say she has the high ground, though it's not what she's thinking of at this point.
"You'll be ill," she says. "Here."
She has spare shoes in her back basket, and they're plopped onto the ground.
"I don't have mocassins, but at least you can walk faster like this."
If Alice lets her, Delilah will fasten the leather straps around her ankles.
When they get inside, she'll find the Mansion is rather well furnished, with elegant furniture that is no where close to what you'd find in a Huron (or a Shuswap) camp.
"There's a fire lit," Delilah says after they've gotten rid of the snow shoes and in her case, of her many layers. "Sit by it, and warm yourself. I'll be back with something to drink."
She even drops a blanket on her lap before she goes.
"..Thank you," Alice says, sitting down in a chair that's far too comfortable for her, she thinks. She's been used to traveling in the woods, living in a fort, so this is rather strange now.
Of course, everything about this situation is strange.
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"Am I alright?" she asks back in a small voice with a soft British accent, feeling stupid already for parroting back the question to the woman--who looks Native, but certainly not like any she's met.
She gulps. Maybe this is a bizarre version of some sort of the afterlife.
"I suppose I'm fine," she says finally, trying to sound firm.
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"You'll be ill," she says. "Here."
She has spare shoes in her back basket, and they're plopped onto the ground.
"I don't have mocassins, but at least you can walk faster like this."
If Alice lets her, Delilah will fasten the leather straps around her ankles.
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"...Thank you," she mumbles.
And then, she asks:
"Why is it winter here?"
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"Because it is," she replies, shrugging. "We'll talk more when we're inside."
She starts to lead Alice towards the Mansion.
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"All right," Alice says, following Delilah towards the house. "It's so cold...it was summer when I left." She's shivering, visibly.
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"Save your breath. Walk. We'll talk inside."
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She doesn't like this, not at all. What if she's been captured again?
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"There's a fire lit," Delilah says after they've gotten rid of the snow shoes and in her case, of her many layers. "Sit by it, and warm yourself. I'll be back with something to drink."
She even drops a blanket on her lap before she goes.
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Of course, everything about this situation is strange.
She covers herself with the blanket and sighs.
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She sets it on the dresser by Alice, takes a mug for herself, then sits on the rug by the fire.
"You must have many questions," she says.
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She doesn't know what to ask.
Instead, she looks down, working the blanket with her fingers.
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"And this place is called the Mansion."
Pause.
"You should have some tea."
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"My name is Alice Munro," she says, feeling warmer already. "What is the Mansion?"
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"I thought I was supposed to be in Heaven," she says, very softly. "Or perhaps Hell, depending."
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