Kael's charcoal moved in careful strokes across the paper. Shadow here. Light there. The kitchen table had perfect afternoon sun for drawing, golden and warm through the window. He squinted at his work and added another line to capture how the light hit his mother's favorite ceramic pot.
"Still at it?" Clarissa Reeve hummed as she chopped vegetables for the evening stew. The rhythm of her knife against the cutting board mixed with her melody. Something about spring flowers and young love. "You'll need spectacles before you're twenty if you keep hunching like that."
Was he hunching? Kael straightened his back. "The light won't last much longer."
"Neither will dinner if I don't get these carrots in the pot." She glanced over and smiled. Flour dusted her brown hair from this morning's baking. "That's quite good. Is that my pot?"
"I'm trying to get the way the glaze catches the sun." He held up the paper. "See how it makes this little rainbow at the edge?"
His mother wiped her hands on her apron and leaned closer. She smelled like bread and herbs and home. "You've got your father's eye for detail. Speaking of which..."
The door opened with its familiar creak. Vale Reeve entered, sawdust in his beard and weariness in his shoulders. But his face brightened when he saw them. "My two favorite people, hard at work as always."
He crossed the kitchen in three strides and ruffled Kael's hair. Wood shavings fell onto the sketch. Kael brushed them off carefully. His father's hands were rough from years of shaping timber, but gentle. Always gentle.
"Good day at the workshop?" Clarissa returned to her vegetables.
"Busy. The Merchant Guild wants six new chairs by week's end." Vale settled into his seat with a satisfied groan. "But Hendrick says if we finish early, there might be a bonus."
"A bonus?" Kael perked up. "Enough for new drawing supplies?"
"We'll see." His father picked up the sketch. "This is fine work, son. Have you thought more about apprenticing with Master Ashford? I spoke with him last week. He's willing to take you on."
Master Ashford. The town's official artist. Painted portraits of wealthy merchants and their plump wives. The idea made Kael's stomach twist. "I... I'm still thinking about it."
"No rush." Vale handed back the drawing. "You're only thirteen. Plenty of time to decide."
But was there? Most boys his age had already started apprenticeships. Learning trades that would feed families someday. And here he sat, making pictures that served no purpose except to please his own eye.
The door burst open. Mira rushed in like a tiny storm, cheeks red from running. "I found it! I found the nest!"
"Boots!" Clarissa pointed at the muddy tracks. "How many times..."
"Sorry, Mama." Mira hopped on one foot, yanking off her boots. "But I found the robin's nest I've been looking for. It's in the old oak by the Hendersons' fence. Three eggs! Blue as the sky!"
"Did you touch them?" Kael set down his charcoal.
"No! I remembered what you said." She bounced to his side. "If you touch them, the mother won't come back. But I looked really close. One egg had tiny speckles."
"Show me tomorrow?"
"Promise!" She noticed his drawing. "Is that Mama's pot? Why are you drawing a pot?"
"To practice light and shadow."
"But it's just a pot." Mira wrinkled her nose. "You should draw something exciting. Like a dragon. Or a knight fighting a dragon!"
"Maybe later." He tucked the sketch away. "Help me set the table?"
They worked together, Mira chattering about her adventures while Kael placed bowls and spoons. She'd seen a butterfly with orange wings. Found a perfectly round stone. Helped old Mrs. Turner carry her groceries. Each discovery warranted equal enthusiasm.
"...and then Tom Bradley said girls can't climb trees, so I climbed higher than him and he got scared and couldn't get down!" She giggled. "His mother had to call his father from the shop."
"You be careful up there." Clarissa ladled stew into bowls. "I don't want to be calling your father from his workshop."
"I'm always careful." Mira took her seat. "Kael taught me to test each branch first."
The family gathered around the table. Vale said the evening prayer, thanking the good Lord for food and family and another day of honest work. Steam rose from their bowls. The stew was perfect, as always. Chunks of beef and potato in rich brown gravy.
"Any news from town?" Clarissa asked.
"Old Henrik claims he saw strange lights in the forest again." Vale tore off a piece of bread. "After three ales, no doubt."
"What kind of lights?" Mira's eyes went wide.
"The kind that appear after too much drink." Her father winked. "Nothing for young girls to worry about."
They ate and talked. Vale shared gossip from the workshop. The mayor's daughter was getting married. Grain prices were rising. A traveling merchant had passed through with silk from the capital.
"Can we go see the merchant?" Mira bounced in her seat. "Please?"
"He's already moved on." Clarissa served seconds. "But there'll be others."
After dinner, Kael helped Mira with her reading. They sat by the fire with her primer, sounding out words together. She struggled with longer words but attacked each one with determination.
"In... vin... invisible?" She looked up.
"Invisible. It means you can't see it."
"Like the wind?"
"Exactly like the wind." He pointed to the next sentence. "Try this one."
She focused, tongue poking out slightly. "'The invisible wind moved the trees.' I did it!"
"You did." He squeezed her shoulder. "You're getting better every day."
"Will you tell me a story when we're done?"
"If you finish the whole page."
She bent over the book with renewed energy. Kael glanced around the room. His father had his pipe out, sweet smoke curling toward the ceiling. His mother worked on mending, needle flashing in the firelight. Mira's hair fell across her face as she read.
Some moments felt too perfect to be real. Like if he blinked, it might all dissolve. He'd had that feeling before, though he couldn't say when. A half-remembered dream of loss and cold.
His neck itched. He scratched absently at the spot below his hairline where a birthmark hid. Barely visible unless you knew to look. It always seemed to bother him during full moons. His mother said birthmarks were where angels kissed you before you were born.
"Done!" Mira announced. "Story now?"
"Alright. What kind of story?"
"A happy one. With a brave princess."
"A brave princess it is." He settled back. "Once, in a kingdom by the sea, there lived a princess who wasn't afraid of anything..."
He spun the tale while Mira listened with rapt attention. The princess battled sea monsters and saved her kingdom. She made friends with dolphins and discovered treasure. By the end, Mira's eyes were heavy.
"That was good," she mumbled. "Will you draw the princess tomorrow?"
"If you'd like."
She yawned and curled against his side. Within minutes, her breathing deepened. Kael sat still, not wanting to wake her. The fire crackled. His parents talked quietly about household things. Normal things. Safe things.
"She's getting heavy." His father stood and gently lifted Mira. "Come on, little bird. Bed time."
Mira stirred but didn't wake as Vale carried her upstairs. Clarissa gathered her mending. "You should sleep too. Early morning tomorrow."
"In a bit." Kael picked up his charcoal. "I want to finish this."
His mother kissed his forehead. "Don't stay up too late."
Alone by the dying fire, Kael returned to his sketch. But instead of the pot, he found himself drawing faces. His father's patient eyes. His mother's gentle smile. Mira's wild hair.
Some moments should last forever.
He set down the charcoal and watched the embers fade. Tomorrow he'd help his father at the workshop. Maybe finally decide about the apprenticeship. Mira would show him the robin's nest. His mother would make fresh bread.
All the tomorrows stretched ahead like a sunny path. Clear and bright and certain.
The birthmark on his neck twinged once, sharp as a needle.
Kael rubbed it and headed for bed.