Morning arrived without ceremony, slipping into the house as quietly as the night had retreated. The rain had thinned to a pale mist by the time Willow came downstairs, leaving the windows washed clean and the light softer for it. The world outside looked newly rinsed, muted in color, as though it were waiting rather than insisting on anything.
Lorrlyne was already in the kitchen, moving with the quiet efficiency of someone who understood how to be present without taking over. She worked without hurry, without commentary, her movements steady and unintrusive. On the rug near the couch, Zana sat on a thick blanket scattered with soft toys, content and alert, babbling quietly to herself as she examined the corner of a book she had already gnawed smooth. Every so often she looked up, tracking sound or movement with calm curiosity before returning to her exploration.
