The sun hung low outside, painting the small house in warm amber light. Lyena sat at the table, a book open in front of her. She was two years old. Her tiny fingers traced the pages, eyes wide with wonder as she followed the words carefully, taking in every picture and story.
The quiet of the house was soft, broken only by the occasional rustle of the trees outside.
The door creaked open. Mira returned from the village, carrying a small stack of books. She paused when she saw Lyena, sitting so still, completely absorbed in her reading.
"What are you reading?" Mira asked, kneeling beside her.
Lyena looked up, eyes sparkling. "Stories," she said simply.
"Are you finished with this one?" Mira asked.
"Yes!" Lyena replied eagerly.
"Did you like it?" Mira asked, smiling softly.
"Yes," Lyena said, nodding seriously.
"I can bring another one tomorrow if you want," Mira offered.
Lyena's face lit up. "Yes!" she shouted, jumping from her chair. She ran toward the garden outside, the last rays of sun catching in her hair.
Mira laughed quietly and returned to her own tasks inside the house.
Lyena wandered through the small garden, touching leaves, chasing insects, and laughing at the way the wind moved the flowers. Shadows lengthened as darkness crept closer, and finally, she returned to the house.
Sitting at the table with her porridge, Mira looked at her. "And have you washed your hands?" she asked.
Lyena paused, nodded, and ran to wash her hands. When she returned, Mira smiled.
"Starbloom Porridge," Lyena called back, sitting down to eat.
The warm meal filled her belly. Drowsiness settled in as she ate slowly, spoon by spoon.
Once finished, Mira lifted her gently and carried her to the small bed tucked in the corner of the house. "Sleep well," she whispered, tucking the blankets around her.
After Lyena's soft breathing filled the room, Mira returned to her desk. Candlelight flickered across the parchment as she dipped her quill and began to write a letter, her thoughts quiet and careful.
Outside, the night deepened, and the house held only the gentle glow of the fire and the soft whispers of the evening.
End of Chapter 9 – Whispers of the Evening