Three months after Arcturus left to go south, and Imogen was still trying to forget about him. She kept telling herself that he wasn't coming back, that men didn't keep promises like that, but no matter how much she did there was a part of her that wanted so badly to believe he really would come back like he said.
To keep herself occupied, she spent the time aggressively doing chores- sweeping areas twice or three times, cooking food enough to last for weeks, and scrubbing dishes hard enough they almost broke. She was a mess otherwise; she couldn't bring herself to do her hair properly or choose clothes that fit her well, so she often looked tired and much older than she was with a messily done braid down her side. Even her family noticed and commented once or twice, but they could do little else without angering her. Imogen didn't quite understand why Arcturus' absence was affecting her so much, but it was like there was this gnawing, empty feeling in her chest that only seemed to make her think of him more with each passing day.
Then, on exactly the last day of the third month, as Imogen was washing the dishes for the fifth that day, she saw a familiar figure walking up the path to the inn and her heart leapt in her chest. She dropped the plate she was holding into the sink, and ran out the door. The rabbit woman couldn't believe her eyes, it really was Arcturus! There was no mistaking his appearance, even under winter clothes. She bolted straight into his arms, burying her face in his chest. In that moment, everything seemed right with the world.