The next morning smelled of green and normalcy.
Breakfast came from the greenhouse: eggs, tomatoes, a handful of herbs Elias hadn't tasted since before the world tipped over. Steam curled off plates and hung in the air like a promise. The taste was simple but so alive that for a moment even the wind rattling against the glass sounded distant.
Lachlan chewed noisily, elbow on the table. "Five-star buffet, boys. We're thriving."
Sera's mouth quirked. The sound drew her eyes up, quick and unguarded. She answered him, not with words but with the faintest shift of expression, and the rest of them let it pass as if that was enough.
Elias felt his throat work. His turn to speak came like a cue, but when he opened his mouth, the words landed wrong.
"Don't forget to wear your sunglasses today," he said, too clipped, too clinical. "Otherwise you risk snow blindness as a result of glare reflection off ice crystals."
