"Storm moved out." She nodded, though she didn't fully understand weather patterns here. She studied the way Elias's movement stayed, even controlled. He worked like a man who measured every step, not out of fear, but out of discipline carved into him long before she arrived. He set the wood aside and glanced toward her. "You hungry?" she hesitated.
"Yes." He motioned for her to sit. "She did, the blanket still clutched with her left hand." He moved around the stove, preparing what little they had without fuss. Pan bread, leftover potatoes, a bit of dried meat softened in warm water. The motions were simple but deliberate, and she watched with a quiet curiosity. She didn't bother hiding.
When he placed the plate in front of her, she murmured her thanks, then ate with slow, careful bites. Elias sat across from her, not eating until she did. She noticed that again. Halfway through the meal, a sudden gust pushed against the window, rattling the frame. She tensed instantly, her hand tightening around the blanket until her knuckles widened.
Elias saw the shift and paused his own movement. "Just wind," he said calmly. She tried to steady her breathing. Sounded different. He tilted his head slightly, listening.
Then he nodded. Nothing out there, but cold. Her shoulders eased by small degrees. She returned to her food, though she checked the window once more before finishing the meal. After breakfast, Nia stood and took a few steps toward the door.
Elias noticed immediately. You planned to go outside? He asked. Yes, she said, though she remained near the threshold. I want air.
You should stay close, he cautioned. I will. She stepped out onto the porch, inhaling deeply. The cold bit into her cheeks, but it felt clean and sharp rather than threatening. The trees stood still, their dark silhouettes rising through the mist.
She scanned the area with a practiced eye, checking for movement, signs of tracks, anything out of place. When she saw none, she let out a breath she didn't know she held. Elias walked up beside her, stopping at a comfortable distance. "You're getting steadier," he said. "Feels different," she replied.
"Better or worse?" She thought about it seriously. "Better. I don't feel chased when I breathe here. He nodded, but the quiet emotion in her answer settled somewhere deep inside him. He wasn't sure what to say, so he didn't force words.
They walked toward the barn together, the dog weaving between them as if trying to herd them into a single line. Nia's steps were slower than Elias's, but she didn't lean on anything for support. She carried herself with deliberate caution, learning the ground beneath her feet the way she once learned danger. At the barn, Elias inspected a cracked board while Nia stood behind him, pulling the blanket closer around her body. The neckline of her dress dipped again with the movement, but she adjusted it quickly.
Elias noticed, but he didn't stare. "You cold?" he asked quietly. "A little?" He paused his work, unbuttoned his coat, and draped it over her shoulders with a steady slow motion meant not to startle her. The weight surprised her, as did the warmth trapped inside the fabric from his own body heat. She looked up at him, her dark eyes caught between gratitude and confusion.
"You need it more," she said softly. "I got layers," he replied, her fingers tightened around the coat edges. "Thank you." Back inside, she stood near the stove thawing out while Elias set tools on the table. She watched him for several moments, then approached slowly. "I want to help," she said.
"You already do. I mean, real help," she clarified. "Not just sorting things." He studied her expression. The uncertainty was gone. She wanted purpose.
He understood that need too well. "All right," he said. "Come here." He handed her a wooden crate filled with metal hooks for the barn doors. They weren't heavy, but they needed sorting and checking for rust. She sat at the table, pulling one hook after another from the crate and tapping them lightly to test their strength.
Her concentration was intense, her brows pulled together, the blanket slipping down her arm as she worked. When it exposed more of her dress, she raised it again without breaking her focus. Elias watched the movement, recognizing it now as a familiar pattern. Adjust continue breathe. Hours passed quietly.
The tension that once filled the spaces between them had thinned, replaced by something calmer, something like cooperation. At midday, when she leaned forward to reach the far edge of the table, the repaired neckline shifted, revealing more skin than she expected. She froze for a second, instinctively reaching for the blanket. Elias, noticing her discomfort, turned away and picked up a tool near the stove. It's fine, he said quietly.
No reason to feel embarrassed. She blinked, surprised by the gentleness of his tone. In my settlement, men don't look away. I'm not them, he replied simply. The words hit her harder than she anticipated.
Later, while Elias chopped firewood outside, Nia ventured out again. She stood a few feet from him, holding a basket of kindling, she collected from around the yard. She watched each swing of the axe, the way his muscles strained beneath his shirt, the way his jaw locked when he focused. Way he paused to wipe his brow. She stepped closer.
"You work hard. Work keeps the place standing," he said. She looked down at the basket she held. "I want to help keep it standing, too." He met her eyes. She wasn't offering charity.