When the bowls were empty, their mother poured tea and placed a plate of honey biscuits in the center of the table. They were not made with cinnamon, the way she used to prepare them for him. He took one anyway. The crumb was warm, the honey clinging to his fingers.
After they ate, Mira and Sera carried the dishes into the kitchen, water running and crockery knocking faintly together.
"Come on, Ren," Elian said, standing from the table. "Let's go to the backyard."
"In this cold?" Ren asked.
"Yes, why not! You just come with me. It will be fun." Elian said. As if the childhood inside him had awakened. His eyes held a boyish spark.
After everything Elian lore Ren towards the backyard of their house. Outside, the snow crunched under their boots. The garden, tucked behind the house, was still green in places, sheltered by wards. In the middle, a circle of stones surrounded an unlit campfire. Then he said to Ren...
