Cold pressed through the thin weave of the blanket, a damp chill against Anna''s cheek. Rough fibers scratched where they touched skin. A floorboard groaned somewhere across the dark space, the sound loud in the quiet. Outside, ocean sounds came – a deep rush, then a long watery hiss against sand, over and over. Closer, from the hearth, a faint warmth radiated. Embers pulsed there, a slow, dull red point in the blackness.
Anna''s eyelids lifted. Darkness swam above – heavy ceiling beams, lost in shadow. Her breath hitched, a tiny sound, then settled into a slow, shallow rhythm. She didn''t move. Seconds stretched. Then, a turn of her head, slow, neck stiff. Her gaze found the dim red point of the embers. Gooseflesh prickled on her bare arms beneath the blanket. The air felt heavy, cold.
Another pause. Ocean sounds marked time. Then, movement. The blanket rustled, shifted, pooled around her waist as she pushed herself up, arms trembling visibly, bracing one hand flat against the cot frame. Bare feet met the floorboards. Cold seeped up. Grit scraped under her soles. She sat on the edge of the cot, shoulders hunched. A shiver traced its path down her spine. She reached back, fumbled, pulled the rough blanket up, wrapping it tight around her shoulders. Stood, pushing hard against the cot frame, her weight rising slow. The floor felt uneven beneath her weight. She swayed for a moment, one hand grabbing the wooden frame again for balance. Turned towards the main door – a rectangle of deeper black against the wall.
Her shadow, cast long and thin by the hearth-glow, stretched before her as she walked, one hand trailing along the rough wood of the wall beside her path. Each footstep landed heavy on the wood. The air smelled of old smoke, dust, the salt dampness of the sea. Her hand reached out, fingers brushing cool, rough wood, then closing around the colder metal of the latch. A faint click echoed.
The door swung outwards with a low groan of hinges. Cold air rushed in, a solid presence against her face, carrying the sharp, clean tang of salt spray and wet sand. Wind streamed past, tugging at loose strands of hair across her forehead, whispering through the dune grass with a dry rustle. The roar and retreat of the waves surged, louder here, filling the air. Anna stepped over the threshold, onto sand still damp from the last high tide, bracing her hand against the doorframe as she stepped down. Stopped. Pulled the blanket tighter, knuckles white where she gripped the fabric.
Her gaze lifted.
The sky showed vast swathes of phosphorescent green sweeping across the zenith, bleeding into deep rivers of misty, swirling blue. No stars showed through that luminous veil; the Betelgeuse Nebula dominated the night. It cast an eerie, pervasive glow downwards, painting the wet sand near the water''s edge in shifting, unnatural greens. Shadows lay long and distorted, without sharp edges. Far out, over restless black water, Archeon''s twin moons hung: the larger a pale disc, its companion smaller, sharper, a chip of bone-white light. Their combined glow added a faint, silvery sheen to the cresting foam of distant breakers.
Near the base of the nearest dune, where tall grasses swayed in the wind, tiny sparks of light blinked. Emerald points drifted, pulsing slow – on, off, on – weaving erratic paths just above the sand. Archeon fireflies. Their faint, individual lights looked fragile against the wash of the nebula. Anna''s eyes tracked one blinking spark for a moment. Then her gaze drifted upwards again, fixed on the immense, silent colour overhead.
She moved away from the doorway, steps shuffling, hesitant on the soft sand. Found a slight hollow near the base of a dune, shielded a little from the direct wind. She braced one hand against the sandy slope, lowering herself slow, controlling the descent with her arms and legs, breath hissing between her teeth as muscles pulled tight across her injured side. Sank down. The sand felt cold, damp, pressing up through the thin blanket where she sat. She drew her knees up tight against her chest, wrapped her arms around them, burying her face partly in the rough wool. The blanket smelled faint of mildew and woodsmoke.
Time stretched. Sounds: the crash and sigh of the waves, the constant cool pressure of the wind. The green and blue light overhead pulsed, shifted in slow currents. The moons crawled across the sky, their silver path edging towards the western horizon. Cold seeped deeper, into muscle, into bone. A tremor started in her hands, hidden beneath the blanket folds. Her eyelids felt heavy. They drifted shut. The sound of the waves filled everything. Then, a jerk. Her head snapped back slightly. Eyes opened again, pupils wide in the dim, coloured light, fixed on the dark horizon line where water met sky. She blinked slow. Once. Twice. Her body remained rigid, knees drawn up, back pressed against the sandy slope.
The air changed. A subtle shift. The salt tang felt sharper, the cold carrying a different bite. The eastern sky, opposite the nebula''s heart, began to pale. A faint, thin line of grey appeared above the dark silhouette of the inland hills. The vibrant greens and blues overhead thinned, lost intensity, became diluted, washed out. The moons, now low in the west, were faint shapes. The wind eased slightly. The rustling of the dune grass softened. A single, high-pitched chirp cut through the wave sounds – a bird, somewhere inland.
The grey line brightened, became pearl-white. Streaks of pale, watery pink emerged, followed by hesitant flares of orange. Sunlight, thin and weak, touched the highest dune peaks, casting long, sharp-edged blue shadows down their western faces. The light crept lower, sliding down the slopes, erasing the last of the nebula''s glow from the sand. It reached Anna. Cool light touched her face, highlighting the stark pallor of her skin, the dark smudges beneath her eyes. The light offered no warmth. The colours of the world returned – beige sand, dull green grass, deep grey-blue morning ocean. The waves crashed, retreated, the sound sharper now in the growing daylight.
Anna didn''t move. Her gaze remained fixed on a patch of damp sand a few feet in front of her. A strand of seaweed lay there, dark, glistening. The blanket still wrapped her tight. Her expression showed blank.
From the common house behind her, sounds grew. Wood scraping against wood. The distant clink of metal. Footsteps moving across the floorboards. Lia''s voice, humming a low, tuneless melody, the sound weaving through the rhythm of the waves.
The door creaked open again. Footsteps on the sand, approaching slow. Anna didn''t look up. Didn''t react. She remained a still figure huddled against the dune, bathed in the cool morning light, the vast ocean stretching before her.
The cup edge entered Anna''s view, held steady. Steam rose in a thin wisp, carrying the faint, sweet scent of chamomile. "Anna?" Miriam''s voice, low, close. "Broth." The cup''s warm metal rim touched Anna''s lower lip. Anna drew back, a bare flinch rippling through her shoulders. Her gaze stayed locked on the wall stain. A drop of warm liquid spilled, tracing a path down her chin. Miriam held the cup steady for another moment, then sighed, a quiet release of air. Clink. The cup set down on the small table beside the chair. Miriam knelt, the floorboards groaning soft under her weight.
A damp cloth touched Anna''s forehead. Cool pressure. The chamomile scent intensified. Miriam wiped slow across Anna''s brow, then her cheeks, cloth dragging faint grit. Anna''s eyes closed at the coolness, then opened again, fixed back on the wall. Miriam folded the cloth, laid it aside. Her gaze lingered on Anna''s pale face, the lines around Miriam''s eyes tight, before her eyes tracked to Lia''s bandaged hand. Miriam''s lips pressed thin. She rose, the movement stiff, and returned to the counter, the rustle of herbs resuming. The wind sighed. Waves crashed. Lia hummed, stacking another stone. Clack.
Then, A new sound cut through the familiar rhythm—an engine''s groan, lower-pitched, heavier than Red Wing''s familiar whine, growing in volume outside. It vibrated faint through the cottage walls. Anna''s head lifted a fraction, muscles pulling tight along her neck. Her eyes shifted from the stain towards the shuttered window, brow furrowing. Outside, boots crunched fast on the gravel path. Voices called out—a man''s sharp query, another''s quick reply, sounds muffled by the walls and wind. CRUNCH... BANG. Something heavy hit the ground near the cottage. The quiet shattered as village sounds shifted—the turbine groan faltered, voices rose higher, urgent.
The cottage door burst inward with a harsh BANG against the wall frame. Cold wind rushed in, swirling dust motes into chaos, carrying the sharp tang of frost and distant pine from the north. Two figures filled the opening, silhouetted sharp against the brighter gray light outside. Tall shapes, bundled in thick, travel-worn gear coated white with rime-frost.
Lia gasped, scrambling backward from the doorway, stones scattering forgotten from her lap. Clatter-clack. The wooden bird tipped onto its side. "Mama!"
The figures stepped inside, shedding the harsh light. Kaelen—lean frame taut, face raw, wind-burned beneath streaks of grime, ice clinging to his short beard. Sara followed close—sturdy build, practical clothes beneath a heavy outer wrap, survey gear slung heavy on her back, short dark hair plastered damp to her skull. Lia ran towards them, halting sharp, her bandaged hand held tight against her chest.
Kaelen dropped to his knees, lines of exhaustion easing on his face. "Lia! Gods, we''re back!" He reached for her, then froze. His gaze locked onto the thick white bandages encasing her small hand and wrist, the stiff splint beneath. His face went slack, then tightened harsh, color draining beneath the windburn. Sara dropped her heavy pack with a solid THUD, moving swift to kneel beside him, her hand hovering over Lia''s bandaged one.
"Lia, sweetling—your hand!" Sara''s voice cracked sharp, fear raw in the sound. "What happened?"
Lia flinched back a fraction from their intense stares. Her eyes darted quick towards Anna, sitting rigid, silent in the chair across the room. A shadow—fear?—flickered across Lia''s face. Her chin lifted. She pulled her injured hand closer to her chest. "Nothing!" The word came out fast, breathy. "It''s okay! I just... stumbled. Near the cliffs." Her gaze dropped to the bandage. "Fell on rocks. Sharp ones." She looked back up, eyes not meeting theirs. "Miriam fixed it. Anna... Anna helped me back."
Kaelen''s gaze snapped up from Lia''s hand, sharp, sweeping the room. It passed over Miriam standing stiff near the counter, then locked onto Anna. He took in the stained bandages visible beneath her torn jacket, the pale, bruised face, the stillness. Sara followed his gaze, her breath catching audible. Lines tightened at the corners of her eyes. Her hand tightened protective on Lia''s shoulder.
Miriam stepped forward smooth, placing herself between the parents and Anna''s chair. "She took a bad fall near the west path, Kaelen," Miriam said, her voice calm, steady. "Nasty cut, might be a small bone fissure. Halden looked at it. We''ve kept her quiet here." Miriam''s hands clenched tight at her sides, knuckles white.
The air in the cottage thickened. Anxious murmurs near the door ceased. Miriam''s low voice attempted reassurance. Kaelen''s replies were clipped, rough fragments swallowed by the wind outside. Lia sat withdrawn near the hearth, small fingers tracing dust patterns, her bandaged hand stark white against her tunic.
Anna remained in the heavy chair, the worn leather ledger open across her lap. Its weight felt heavy. She stared down at the pages, lines blurring – rotors, wings, calculations – meaningless against the throb in her side and the ache twisting deep in her gut. Her fingers traced a simple diagram – a small glider, clean lines against the page''s aged cream.
Kaelen broke away from Miriam and Sara, crossing the floor. His boots scraped loud on the packed earth. He stopped near Anna''s chair, his shadow falling over the ledger. Ice still clung to the rough fur lining his collar. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, the sound rasping in the quiet.
"Anna." Kaelen''s voice was rough, strained. "Miriam... she said what happened. That outsider... Rennon." He paused, swallowing. "Tried to kill you? Bombed the ship?"
Anna''s head lifted slow, the movement stiff. Her grayish-blue eyes, clouded, met his. A tremor ran through her hand resting on the open page. "He..." Her voice scraped, barely audible. "Attacked. Took... something." Her gaze flickered down brief to Lia''s bandaged hand, then shot back to the ledger. "Bombed the engine." The admission was clipped, breath shallow.
Kaelen stared, shock widening his eyes. Color drained further from his wind-burned face. "Attacked? Here? But... violence like that..." He shook his head, a sharp movement. "Gods, Anna... the village... they saw..." He trailed off, then leaned closer, his voice dropping low.
Anna flinched. Her gaze snapped up, meeting his. Her breath hitched sharp, pulling fire across her ribs. "It wasn''t... just him," she choked out, the words tearing loose, raw. Her eyes darted again to Lia, huddled near the hearth, then back to Kaelen, pupils dilating slight in the dim light. "Lia''s hand..." Her voice broke, a ragged edge. "The kite... That was... me." The final word was a choked whisper. She hunched forward, wrapping her arms tight around her middle, pressing against the pain, head bowed low over the ledger, shoulders shaking.
Kaelen froze. His jaw went slack. His gaze shot from Anna''s shaking form to Lia near the hearth. The child now looked back, wide dark eyes fixed on her father. Kaelen looked down at Lia''s bandaged hand. His expression shifted – confusion, then widened eyes, a tightening around his mouth. He took a hesitant step towards Lia, away from Anna''s chair. He crouched down slow, bringing his face level with his daughter''s, his movements stiff.
"Lia?" Kaelen''s voice was low, tight. He reached out, his hand hovering over her good shoulder, not touching. "Lia, look at me."
Lia''s gaze lifted from the floor to his face. Her eyes showed wide, dark pools reflecting the dim light. Her lips trembled slightly. She pulled her bandaged hand closer to her chest.
"Your hand, sweetling," Kaelen continued, his voice rough but quieter now. "You told Mama Sara... you fell? On the rocks?" His eyes scanned her face.
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Lia''s gaze flickered towards Anna''s hunched back, then back to her father. She chewed on her lower lip. A tear escaped one eye, tracing a clean path through the grime on her cheek. She nodded, a small, jerky movement. "Fell," she whispered, the sound barely audible. "Sharp rocks... by the... by the wreck." Her breath hitched on a small sob.
Kaelen watched her face, his own expression tightening. Doubt showed plain in his eyes now. He glanced again at Anna''s shaking shoulders, then back at Lia''s tear-streaked face and the thick white bandage. His hand, still hovering, finally settled on Lia''s shoulder, gripping the rough tunic fabric. His other hand clenched into a fist at his side, knuckles white. He opened his mouth, closed it again. The muscle in his jaw worked. His eyes reflected the lamplight, showing a shift from confusion to something harder, pained.
He pushed himself upright slowly, his gaze fixed on his daughter for another long moment. He took an involuntary step back from her, boots scuffing loud on the earth floor. His hands clenched, unclenched at his sides. He looked at Anna''s bowed head, then back at Lia, now looking down at her lap.
Miriam moved swift, silent, placing a hand firm on Kaelen''s arm. Sara joined them, her face pale, eyes fixed on Anna. Lines showed tight around Sara''s mouth.
The silence stretched, thick. Anna remained hunched, trembling, the words hanging heavy in the air between.
Then, pushing against the tension, Anna pointed a shaking finger at the glider sketch in the ledger. "Need..." Her voice was thin, strained. "Need wood scraps. Light ones." Her gaze remained fixed on the diagram. "Canvas. Wire." She focused hard on the lines, her breathing still uneven.
Kaelen remained silent for another long beat. The muscle in his jaw worked. He looked from Anna''s profile, still bowed over the page, to Miriam''s steady gaze. He exhaled hard, the sound heavy. Finally, he gave a stiff, almost imperceptible nod. "Scraps," he echoed, the word flat. He turned toward the door without looking at Anna again. "Sara... let''s find... what she needs." He moved stiff out of the cottage, Sara following close, casting one last look back at Anna hunched over the ledger. Miriam remained, her hand dropping from Kaelen''s arm, lines deep around her eyes.
Anna pushed herself up from the ledger, hand bracing flat against the workbench. Muscles pulled tight. A low hiss of breath escaped her lips. Fire pulsed sharp beneath her side bandages. Miriam stepped close, offering an arm. Anna took it, her grip tight but unsteady, leaning into Miriam''s frame as they moved slow towards the cottage door. The packed earth floor felt uneven beneath Anna''s dragging boot. Outside, the wind swirled cold, carrying the damp scent of wet stone and distant pines from the plateau. Gray light pressed heavy; the air held the metallic tang of the coming storm.
They walked past the main workshop''s dark shape. Anna''s head remained angled away, her gaze fixed on the smaller storage shed huddled near the cliff base—a lean-to of warped timber and rusted corrugated metal. Kaelen followed a few paces behind Miriam and Anna, his boots scraping, pausing between steps on the gravel. Sara remained near the cottage entrance, kneeling beside Lia, her back to Anna. Anna heard the low murmur of Sara''s voice, then Lia''s higher, thinner reply, sounds snatched away by the wind.
Anna stopped before the shed''s low entrance, pulling her arm free from Miriam''s support. She leaned against the rough wood frame, breath catching short, faint color showing high on her pale cheeks. Kaelen stopped near her, shifting his weight. His gaze drifted towards Anna''s bandaged side, lingered there, then flickered away. "Need a hand... with that?" he asked, the words rough, his gesture vague towards the shed''s dim interior.
"Got it," Anna replied, her voice clipped, flat. She didn''t meet his eyes. She pushed away from the frame, ducking slow, head lowered to clear the beam, under the low lintel into the shed''s cluttered darkness. Miriam stayed outside, a still figure near the entrance.
Inside, the air smelled thick of dust, dried mud. Scraps lay piled—lengths of stripped wire coiled, stacks of cracked wood planks smelling faint of resin, bundles of stiff, faded canvas. Anna moved with stiffened joints between the piles, her good hand probing materials. Fingers brushed splintery wood. Lifted a roll of oiled canvas, felt its rough texture. Set it aside. Found another, thinner patch, gray. Pulled it free, the fabric rustling loud in the confined space. She gathered thin wooden struts, checking for cracks, placing them beside the canvas patch near the doorway. Bent to examine a coil of thin brass wire, testing its flex between muddy fingers. Her breath came shallow, punctuated by faint winces as she stretched or twisted.
Outside, Sara''s voice lifted, the sound carrying clearer on a shift in the wind. "...sure you didn''t slip, Lia? That rock looked..." Lia''s reply muffled, indistinct. Sara''s low murmur returned. Anna saw Lia through the doorway, small back turned, head bowed as Sara adjusted the bandage on her splinted hand. Lia''s small shoulders hunched inward. Sara''s expression, when she glanced up towards the shed, showed lines tight around her mouth, her eyes narrowing.
A shadow fell across the shed entrance. Tolvar stood there, broad frame blocking the gray light. He carried a heavy coil of rope over one shoulder. He looked from Anna, crouched over the wire coil, to the small pile of wood and canvas near the door. He grunted, the sound low in his chest. "Back at it, Freedman?" His gaze held no warmth. "Go easy." He shifted the rope coil higher on his shoulder, then moved past the shed down the village path without looking back, boots crunching heavy on the gravel.
Anna watched him go, her hands pausing on the wire coil. She straightened slow, pressing a hand again to her side. The pile of materials looked small. She gathered the wood struts under one arm, tucked the canvas patch under the other, looped the wire coil over her wrist. The load shifted her balance. She turned, emerged from the shed''s dusty gloom back into the cold wind and gray light. Her boots dragged heavy on the path back towards the cottage. Kaelen stepped back, letting her pass, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. Miriam fell into step beside Anna, taking some of the wood struts without comment, her presence a silent weight beside Anna.
Late afternoon sunlight slanted gold across the gentle slope rising just beyond the village edge. Long shadows stretched thin from sparse clumps of wiry plateau grass; their dry seed heads nodded slow in the whispering wind. The air held the clean scent of sun-warmed earth and crushed stems, laced with a faint, cool salt tang drifting up from the sea far below. Anna stood near the slope''s crest. The simple glider – thin wood struts lashed tight with twists of brass wire, patches of gray, weathered canvas pulled taut across the frame – rested light in her uninjured hand. Each breath she drew scraped shallow, a constant pull tight against the bandages across her ribs. She shifted her weight; her boots pressed into the soft turf beneath.
Lia stood close beside her, small face tilted upward, dark eyes tracking the glider''s shape against the vast amber and rose streaks painting the sky. Her bandaged hand rested still against the rough fabric of her patched tunic. Wind tugged loose strands of dark hair across her forehead, whipping them against her skin.
Anna braced one hand flat on the turf beside her knee, the other pressed hard against her bandaged side. She lowered herself slow, controlling the descent, muscles bunching beneath her torn jacket. A low grunt escaped her tight lips as fire pulsed deep beneath her ribs. She stabilized herself kneeling, eye level meeting Lia''s. She held the glider out, angling its nose into the wind.
"Feel it?" Anna said. Her voice was low, a rough whisper against the wind''s steady sigh. She guided Lia''s good hand forward. Small fingers pressed, hesitated a fraction, then settled firm against the taut gray canvas of the lower wing. The fabric vibrated faint, a tremor transmitting the wind''s pressure. <i>"Wind pushes. Wants to lift."</i> Lia''s fingers tightened on the smooth wood strut beneath the canvas. Her gaze followed the wing''s tilt against the sky, dark pupils reflecting the shifting golden light. <i>"Wait for the strong gust..."</i> Anna murmured, her own eyes scanning the waving grass heads, watching the patterns shift. <i>"Feel it build..."</i>
They waited, still, amidst the rustling grass. Wind swept up the slope, a cooler rush against their faces. Lia looked from the wing to Anna''s face, then back to the open air before them. "Can I?" The question was a soft puff of sound.
Anna studied Lia''s face – the focus pulling the child''s brow tight, the small jaw set. Anna gave a small, slow nod. Her own scraped hand hovered near the glider''s thin frame. "Okay." Her voice, quiet. <i>"Hold steady... wrist flat."</i> She adjusted Lia''s grip. <i>"Aim up... smooth."</i> Anna made a minimal upward tilt with her chin towards the crest of the opposite, lower rise. <i>"Wait... wait..."</i> The wind surged again, harder this time, bending the grass stems low. "Now."
Lia took a quick, sharp intake of breath. Her small arm swung back, then thrust forward. The movement lacked smoothness; her shoulder hitched. The glider lifted from her grasp, lurched sideways, dipped low. One wingtip scraped the tops of the tallest grass stalks with a dry, tearing rustle. Sunlight flashed harsh off the wire bracing. It tumbled a handspan above the ground. Anna took a sharp half-step forward, hand starting to reach, breath caught hard, tight in her chest.
Then a current caught the lower wing. The dip stopped. The wobble smoothed. The glider leveled out, sailed silent against the breeze. It climbed a meter, maybe two, its flight path a smooth arc across the slope, a gray shape stark against the gold-streaked sky. It held steady, wings level... ten paces... fifteen... balanced on the air. Its shadow slid swift, dark, over the sunlit grass below. Then its nose dipped again, slow, gradual. It settled soft into the longer grass near the base of the slope, vanishing from sight. A sound too low to carry over the wind followed.
Lia gasped, the sound sharp, sudden in the returning quiet. Her good hand flew up, slapping hard against her own leg. Thump. She spun toward Anna, eyes shining, wide with reflected sunset light. A grin spread across her small face, pushing dirt-smudged cheeks high, revealing small teeth.
Anna watched the spot where the glider had vanished. Her gaze stayed fixed on the tall grass for several heartbeats. The wind sighed around them. Air left Anna''s lungs in a long, slow release. The tension holding her shoulders rigid eased, a visible drop. Muscles around her eyes unclenched a fraction. A faint upward curve touched the corner of her mouth, pulling the pale skin taut over her cheekbone. The curve lingered, small against the lines of strain. Her gaze lifted, met Lia''s beaming stare. She gave Lia a small, slow nod back. The movement showed effort against the stiffness in her neck. Wind whispered through the grass. The distant waves crashed, their rhythm unheard.
Lia gasped again, a pure sound, and scrambled down the grassy slope, her good hand outstretched. Boots kicked up small clods of damp earth as she hurried, her small silhouette sharp against the vast incline bathed in the setting sun''s gold. She reached the patch of taller grass where the glider lay, bending low, her movements careful around her splinted arm. Her fingers closed around the central wooden strut. She lifted it, her touch gentle on the fragile frame, brushing away clinging grass stems.
Anna pushed herself upright, bracing one hand flat on the turf, the movement pulling muscles tight across her bandaged ribs. A sharp hiss of breath escaped between her teeth. She followed Lia down the slope, each step placed with precision on the uneven ground, her pace slowed by the pull in her side. Her hand pressed flat against the bandages, feeling the dull fire beneath the cloth. The wind, cooler now as dusk gathered, whispered through the tall grass, carrying the scent of crushed stems and drying earth. Her gaze tracked Lia''s careful handling of the glider.
Lia turned, holding the glider aloft. Light caught the lines around her eyes, the curve of her mouth. "It flew! It really flew, Anna!" Her voice bounced, clear against the wind''s low sigh.
Anna reached the bottom of the slope, stopping beside the child. She looked from Lia''s widened, dark pupils to the simple glider frame – wood, wire, canvas scraps stitched together. <i>A fragile thing. It flew.</i> "Yeah," Anna said. The word scraped raw in her throat. "It did."
Miriam met them at the bottom of the path leading back up to the village, her silhouette dark against the fading light. Anna leaned into her mother''s offered support without a word. They started back towards the village path, Lia skipping ahead, cradling the glider against her chest with her good arm. The uphill pace remained slow; Anna''s hand stayed pressed to her side, her weight heavy against Miriam''s arm. Lia skipped a step ahead, waited, glanced back.
"Did you see how it caught the air?" Lia asked, words tumbling fast, dark eyes wide. "Right when it dipped? It just swooped!" She made a swooping gesture with her free hand.
Anna nodded, watching the path ahead, each foot placement deliberate on the uneven ground. "Saw it." The wind ruffled her loose blonde hair, strands catching faint gold from the last light touching the plateau rim high above.
"Can we make it bigger next time?" Lia pressed, turning to walk backwards for a few steps, facing Anna. "With stronger wings? Like... like yours?" Her voice hitched on the last word, her gaze flickering towards the empty sky where Cloudchaser used to soar.
Pain tightened sharp behind Anna''s ribs. <i>Cloudchaser.</i> The name, unspoken, left an emptiness in her chest. She focused on the rough gravel beneath her boots. "Bigger needs... strong frame," Anna said, voice low. "Different wood. More bracing." <i>Like Dad used...</i> The thought surfaced, a flickering image – his large hands showing her how to test the give in a spar. <i>His plans... in the ledger...</i>
Her own hand drifted towards her vest pocket, fingers brushing the corner of the small wooden bird Lia had given her earlier. Smooth wood. Solid.
"Could we paint this one?" Lia asked, skipping forward again, holding the glider out. "Blue? Like the sky gets? Or maybe red, like-" she stopped, glancing back at Anna. "-like a firebird?"
<i>Firebird... burning...</i> Anna''s breath caught; a muscle jumped beside her eye. The image of flame licking Cloudchaser''s frame flashed hot behind her eyelids. She swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in her throat. "Blue," she said, the word clipped. "Blue''s... good." <i>Sky color. Safe color.</i> She watched Lia trace the glider wing with a small finger.
"Birdy likes blue?" Lia murmured, glancing down at the bird now peeking from Anna''s pocket.
Anna pulled the small, carved bird free. Turned the smooth, polished wood in her palm. Its simple shape felt cool against the heat under her scraped knuckles. "He''s... steady," she said, the word landing quiet in the cooling air. She closed her fingers around, the object a point of solid contact against the vastness of the sky.
They reached the edge of the village cluster. Lantern light spilled warm from hut doorways, brass casings gleaming. The smoky scent of evening cookfires drifted on the breeze, mingling with the salt tang from the sea. Voices murmured within huts, a low hum beneath the wind and waves.
Anna saw them then. Kaelen and Sara stood near the path leading to their temporary lodging. Their conversation halted as Anna, Miriam, and Lia approached. Kaelen''s gaze tracked Anna''s slow pace, the hand pressed to her side, her reliance on Miriam''s arm. Sara''s eyes went straight to Lia, then flickered to the glider she carried, lines forming between Sara''s eyebrows. Their faces showed no clear expression. Watchful stillness showed in the dusk.
Anna''s steps faltered a fraction. Her gaze dropped from their faces to the path before her boots. Small stones blurred. She felt the pressure of their gaze on her back, on Lia beside her. Her shoulders tightened. She kept walking, head bowed, eyes fixed on the path towards the cottage door, leaning heavier on Miriam.
Miriam''s arm provided steady support. The set of her shoulders eased as they neared the cottage. Anna reached the threshold, leaning heavy against the doorframe, breath scraping. The walk, the interaction, left her muscles trembling, the fire in her side pulsing low but constant.
Lia darted past her into the cottage, placing the glider with care against the wall near the hearth. "We flew it, Mama Miriam! It flew real good!" Lia chirped, turning back. Excitement showed on her face despite the bandage on her hand.
Miriam smiled, lines crinkling near her eyes. She looked past Lia to Anna, still lingering in the doorway. "I saw," Miriam said, her voice low. Her gaze held Anna''s for a moment.
Anna stepped inside, pulling the door shut against the rising night wind. The latch clicked home, the sound final. She stood for a moment in the relative warmth, the scents of herbs and woodsmoke settling around her. She let the wooden bird slide back into her pocket. Her frame slumped; muscles felt heavy. She moved stiff towards the chair near the hearth, Miriam''s hand light on her back, sinking into the chair with a low groan muffled by the coarse cushions.
Lia curled up on the floor pallet nearby, already tracing patterns on the glider wing with her good finger. Miriam moved towards the simmering pot over the hearth. The cottage closed in, small against the vast darkness outside. Anna closed her eyes. The crackle of the fire Miriam stoked, the child''s low humming, the wind sighing against the walls—sounds filled the space. She sat, breathing against the pulsing ache. The weight of the day settled into her bones. <i>Present.</i> The mending continued.