"Our camp is too far to reach safely now. We came to ask shelter." Elias stepped aside without hesitation. "The barn is safer than a house. It's built stronger." They followed him to the barn just as the sky opened. Rain slammed against the roof in thick sheets, and the wind pushed hard enough to rattle the walls.
Elias checked every post, every support beam, making sure nothing would give way. The widows assisted without waiting for instruction, tying loose ropes, gathering tools, and moving gear away from the leaking spots. A sudden crack of thunder shook the ground. Lansa flinched. Oyana steadied a bucket that nearly toppled.
Nalaina kept her focus on the roof line, her breathing controlled but tight. Elias noticed the tension in her shoulders. She was afraid of a storm, but refused to show it. He climbed up the ladder to inspect the beams. Wind pushed through the gaps, spraying water across the hay.
The main support was holding, but the smaller crossbeam had loosened. If it collapsed, the horses would panic, and the barn could lose a section of the roof. "Hand me the rope." Elias called down. Nalaina passed it to him, her hands steady despite the noise. She held the ladder in place while he worked.
Rain seeped through the shingles, soaking his shirt, making the wood slippery, but he secured the beam until it no longer shifted. When he climbed down, his breath was uneven from the effort. Nalaina looked at him with a seriousness he had not seen before. "You do not think of yourself first," she said quietly, "even in danger." Elias wiped water from his face. "The horses can't defend themselves.
Someone has to." The answer was simple to him, but Nalaina seemed to study it deeper. She stood closer than usual, her eyes taking in the exhaustion in his movements and the steadiness he forced into them. The storm raged for hours. Water ran beneath the barn door in thin streams. The horses paced nervously, hooves thudding against the stall floors.
Elias stayed beside them, speaking in low, calm tones until they settled. Nalaina joined him, offering grain and stroking a mare's neck until the trembling stopped. At one point, lightning lit the barn interior in a stark flash. Oyana gripped a post, breathing through her fear. Lances sat near the wall with her knees pulled close, trying to steady herself.
Elias moved toward them, crouching so his voice carried without shouting. "The barn will hold. The posts are strong. Nothing here will fall." The reassurance worked. Not because his tone was forceful, but because they could see he believed what he said.
When the rain finally weakened, the air grew heavy with the smell of wet earth and soaked wood. The storm moved east, leaving only distant rumbles behind. The widows remained seated for a moment, letting their nerves settle. Elias felt an unexpected shift inside himself. Their presence did not disturb him.
Their fear did not burden him. Instead, he felt a quiet sense of responsibility, one that did not come from obligation, but from a natural pull to protect those who trusted him. As the sky lightened, Nalaina approached. Her hair clung to her face and her clothing was damp, but her posture remained steady. "You welcomed us without question," she said softly.