*Xelina*

I poke at the fire, the scent of burning cedar and dry pine needles filling the air, mixing with the faint earthy aroma of damp stone. I watch the sparks float upward, their glow like tiny stars caught in a dark sky, flickering and fading. It feels like the only light in the world right now, fragile and precious.

My thoughts drift back to the man who helped me start the fire. He bumped into me, and the firewood crashed to the ground with a clatter. I braced myself for anger or at least a sharp word, but he surprised me. Instead, he knelt beside me, steady and calm,...