Page 142 of Barbi and the Villain

He stops. Half turning, he glares at me.

“And who is the one with the experience here, Miss Barbara? You asked for my advice and I gave it to you. If you choose to be obstinate, then you can do as you please and leave me alone. I never liked those dogs of yours anyway. Too spoiled,” he sneers.

My mouth drops open in shock.

“But… But…”

“Leave, Miss Barbara. You are no longer welcome here.”

I am so shocked, I can barely come up with a proper reply. Especially as he goes one step further and pushes me out of his shop, closing the door in my face.

My lashes flutter in disbelief, and for a few moments, I’m unable to move.

He… He kicked me out. He insulted me and my dogs and kicked me out.

I rub my eyes with the back of my hand, though the tears come unbidden.

Am I too sensitive, or was that just downright rude?

Not one to give up, I take a deep breath and stride to the kitchens. If he isn’t going to help me, then I’m going to do everything myself.

More tears fall down my cheeks as I make my way through the village, and it doesn’t escape me the way people whisper and speculate for the reason behind them. This might be called the Sanctuary, but who offers a sanctuary to the people inside? Maybe because it’s such a small village, but every little thing becomes gossip around here. You could trip and fall in front of your house, and in a matter of minutes, the news spreads throughout the commune. It already happened to me once, and people still gossip about me being the girl with two left feet.

But then again, maybe it is because I am the only human here. To them, I am somewhat of an oddity. I have no abilities save for the healing I borrowed from Nykander. And despite the fact that most females here wish to find a good mate and start a family, they are all knowledgeable in battle and they work side by side with the men.

I try not to mind the way people stare at me as I enter the kitchens. I head straight for the pantry, putting aside a few items that I know are good for puppies—all ingredients PomPom’s puppy food had contained.

Cutting them in small bits, I place them in a mortar and start grinding them to a fine paste with a pestle. It’s hard work for someone with zero arm strength, but that puppy deserves the best.

Maybe you should have asked Nykander to do it for you.

Maybe. But I did not want to come across as useless—it already happens enough on a daily basis.

In the last weeks, I have embarrassed myself enough with my lack of practical skills that should make Nykander reconsider his stance on dating me. I mean, I wouldn’t date myself either. Just imagine that. Two Barbis that have no idea how to survive in the world without modern technology. It would be a disaster!

Maybe Mr. Foerie had a point when he called me empty-headed and ignorant.

A sniffle erupts in the air, and I belatedly realize it’s coming from me.

Damn it! Why am I crying again?

He was right that I am not very knowledgeable when it comes to a lot of things. But to imply that I would be ignorant about my babies’ health is downright insulting.

“I’m not dumb,” I whisper to myself. “I really am not…” Another sniffle. “I am a poop master at least,” I murmur to myself, a semblance of a smile pulling at my lips. If everything fails, at least I have that. After all, I am the best at detecting when my babies are sick just by the color and consistency of their poop.

You’re being silly, Barbi.

It is a skill, and one I am proud of—no matter what others might say.

In a way, I’m lucky the fates have decided I would make a good mate for Nykander, since otherwise I would probably be forever alone.

That thought makes me even more desolate.

I wipe my tears away as I focus my efforts on grinding the ingredients for the pup. PomPom no longer has milk. Ander keeps trying to latch to her nipple, but then cries when he cannot get anything to eat.

Nykander had the great idea to get some goat’s milk for him, but we need to slowly transition him to solids.

After I’m done with the paste, I spread it evenly on a tray.

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