Lenora's POV
Kellan Brosse came in on a Tuesday.
He arrived at the confluence settlement on foot, alone, carrying nothing but a worn pack and Senna's letter folded in his coat pocket. He was eighteen and looked younger, with the uncertain posture of someone who has been told how to hold themselves and has recently lost faith in the instructions.
Senna met him at the bridge.
I watched from a distance, near the willows. Close enough to intervene if needed, far enough to give them space.
They stood on the bridge for a long time. I couldn't hear what was said. I watched the body language — the way Kellan stood at first with his arms crossed and his shoulders up, the defensive posture of someone expecting judgment, and the way that slowly, incrementally, changed as Senna talked. The should
