8. When We Are In Need -
“Elias,” she whispered. Her voice was like dry leaves scraping over stone. He didn't look up. “I’m here.” “The soup,” she said. “It was good.”
Elias didn't say thank you. The word was too small, too light to carry the weight of what had just passed between them. 8. When We Are in Need
Elias went still. The wind didn't thud. The wind pushed, it shrieked, it whistled. This was a deliberate weight striking the wood. “Elias,” she whispered
He didn't relight the lantern; tallow was too precious. Instead, he dragged the stranger to the hearth and kicked the dying embers of the fire. He threw on the last of the dry birch branches. The wood caught with a sharp crackle, casting a sudden, dancing orange glow over the small room. “I’m here