Morning rose soft and gold, spilling over the fields as if it had been waiting for permission to begin again.
The dew clung to the new wheat, and the river laughed louder than it had in years.
Children were already awake, running barefoot through the grass, chasing something invisible. Their laughter carried through the air like ink splashed across a clean page.
Lena watched from the porch, arms folded, smile playing at her lips. She could hear them arguing over which story to tell first.
“No monsters,” said one girl with braids full of river shells.
“No kings,” said another, rolling her eyes.
“Then what’s left?” a boy demanded.
The first girl grinned. “Us.”
Dominic came up behind Lena, resting his chin lightly on her shoulder. “They’ve decided they’re enough,” he murmured.
“They’
