C63 Threads in the Dust

They stayed the night in the quiet village.

The lantern’s glow held steady, casting soft amber light across the square. No one asked them to speak. No one asked them to leave. But in the morning, small offerings lined the stone step—bundles of dried lavender, river-polished stones, a child’s woven bracelet.

“We should carry them,” Fen said. “If they’ve remembered, let them travel with us