The sun had begun its slow descent behind the hills, casting the sky in soft streaks of gold and plum.
Shadows stretched across the road like reaching arms, and the wind outside had quieted to a hum.
Billy shifted in his seat, the last of their laughter fading into a comfortable silence.
His hand stayed in Artur's, fingers lightly tangled like they were afraid to let go.
The trees began to thin.
Then, as the road curled past a bend, the first glimpse of Solmere broke through — rooftops tucked in between tall grasses and old wooden fences, smoke rising gently from a few chimneys.
The air seemed softer here. Slower.
Artur's hands relaxed slightly on the wheel. His gaze flicked to Billy, then back to the road. "We're here."
Billy leaned forward a little, eyes searching for the familiar.
There — the market square. Quiet now, but he could almost hear the sound of stalls being taken down, laughter echoing from the well, the soft clatter of crates being carried home.
