Page 11 of In Your Light

Hadeom leaned his head against the wall.

Just one visit, he thought.

One fresh pot of tea. One short conversation. One patch of sunshine.

And Fyn had said he’d be back in two days...

Hadeom shifted beneath his blanket and looked again toward the jetty, listening for the sound of sunshine. The clouds hung low and heavy, turning morning into afternoon and then into something closer to dusk.

Fyn wasn’t coming. That much was clear.

So foolish to think he would.

Hadeom made himself get up. He’d left the fire too long and was mad at himself because now he had to fix it.

You should keep the fire burning. That’s what Fyn had said.

He was right, of course. But Hadeom could sit very still for a very long time, and time was different for him.

Time was... cruel.

Two days. Two days wasn’t even a blink, and yet now it felt... strange.

Then two days became three. The rain kept him company. The cold kept him inside the hut, and his overthinking mind kept him stuck and very still.

On day four, Hadeom woke to the sound of silence. To the absence of rain and wind. He opened the door, and with the blanket around him, he stepped onto the porch to look at the river. The sky was still grey, clouds low, and the mist shrouded the water, the trees. But no rain.

The cold air smelled fresh and clean. And then, as if summoned by the wish itself, a shape appeared through the mist.

A figure came out of the trees.

Hadeom turned so quickly, the blanket nearly slid from his shoulders.

The figure drew closer. It had bare feet and dark blond curls and a bundle tucked beneath one arm.

“Morning,” Fyn said as he stepped onto the porch, his green eyes bright and beautiful. “Looking for something?”

Hadeom refused to admit how his heart thrummed when Fyn brushed past him as he went inside the hut. Hadeom also refused to unpack what that meant. “You’re late.”

Fyn laughed and set the bundle on the table. The familiar scent of bread immediately filled the room.

The hut seemed brighter already. Outside, the day was grey and cold. Inside, sunshine had arrived grinning with dew dripping from his hair.

He undid his knapsack and began pulling items out, explaining each as he did. “More smoked trout, berries, bread, and tea.” He put the box of tea on the table and gave Hadeom a quick glance. “Did you like the tea?”

“I did, very much,” Hadeom admitted. “Thank you.”

Fyn nodded slowly, then glanced at the fire. He went over and picked up the empty water tin. “You know, it actually helps remarkably well if you put water in the kettle when you want to boil it for tea.” He filled the kettle halfway and hooked it over the fire with a familiar ease.

“Sorry, I could have done that,” Hadeom said, even though he rather enjoyed the way Fyn made himself at home.

Fyn went back to the table and unwrapped the bread. “Still warm,” he said. “Baked fresh this morning.”

“I can smell it,” Hadeom said, trying not to smile, trying not to let that seed of something terrible take root in his chest. And yes, hope was a terrible thing. He couldn’t allow himself.... He wouldn’t.

He went to the counter and took down the two mugs. Then he put his hand on the third mug and hesitated. “Your running mate—would he like a cup of tea? It’s cold out there.”

“Uh....” Fyn made a face before turning back to the goods he’d brought with him. “I’m by myself today.”