Hot Cider

He sat next to his niece silently, watching her thoughtfully. "You gave your sketchbook away, to that girl. You ain't even drawed in it yet."

She smiled, sipping from a steaming mug cupped in her small bare hands. Her brown eyes were unusually soft when she glanced up at him, the sunlight revealing varying shades of caramel and dark oak. "She didn't have one. I can get another some other day."

The man snorted, scratching at his unruly black beard, fingers twisting the streak of gray down the middle. Just when he thought he had the short fourteen year old figured out she threw a curveball at him. The silver-tongued smart mouth that had ridden shotgun in his truck the three hours south to the park never would have batted an eye at the little seven year old girl's distress, never would have spoken to her about the importance of creativity and art, and never would have given up the small pack of pencils and empty sketchbook that she guarded with the fierceness of a dragon guarding its hoard. No, that girl was sharp teeth and dark eyes, quick to threaten with a malicious smile, ready to put her older cousins in their place when they challenged her. He figured she was just like her mother. She hid her tired eyes from the world, disappearing into herself with a pair of headphones and a book, her bare feet resting on the dash.

"Problem?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him delicately, still sipping on her too hot cider. He could smell sweet caramel and cinnamon in the air as he studied her. Despite the coolness of the air, she looked comfortable in the sunlight, thin fingers playing with leaves of orange, red and yellow distractedly.

"Are you gonna drink all our cider?" he smiled at her, exaggerating the crinkles around his eyes as he nudged her with his elbow.

She laughed softly, a quiet sound easily missed if one wasn't paying attention, "Maybe. Y'all sure don't drink it fast enough."

"How many cups you have today?"

"Three in the morning and two this afternoon," she gestured to the tall mug, "this is the fifth so far."

"Y'know we only got that one keg, don't ya?" he prompted. She shrugged with a sly smile, drinking the burning cider contently. Her uncle laughed and shook his head, knowing she could easily finish off the full keg by herself if she really wanted to. "Your gonna be more cider than girl by the end of this weekend, ain't ya girlie?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "It's nice. Sweet and soothing, like a nap in the sun or a long hug from your favorite person."

"When its cold, it ain't that good," he said. She glanced up at him a frown, like she wanted to argue. "Its not bad but its not good either. A bit bitter and leaves an unfamiliar taste in your mouth. But heat it up and its nice. I still like the cider when its cold but nothing beats it warm, when you can smell the caramel and spices and everything that makes its pleasant."

The girl's eyebrows scrunched together, a pale hand reaching up to pull out the thick curls in her wild, mousy brown hair. "What are you getting at old man?" she grumbled, teeth flashing in the sunlight as she narrowed her eyes. The short girl didn't look at him, choosing to focus on a group of geese headed south for the winter, arranged in the pale blue sky as a staggering "v". It was a subconcious threat that always worked on the boys but her uncle knew she wouldn't actually do anything.

"Your heart's a bit like cider, cold and bitter, but if it gets warmed up a little it can be nice," he hummed. She snorted, rolling her eyes. He continued anyway, "You saw someone who needed comfort and I know you got a heart, even though you act like yo don't. Just need a little warmth to show that your still good, not the trouble everyone thinks you are." She closed her eyes, slowly finishing off the hot cider.