The rains had finally loosened their grip, and the world shifted into a gentler mood. The mornings grew crisp, filled with the smell of drying earth and fallen leaves. When Charlisa stepped outside at dawn, the ground was littered with amber and copper, and the soft crunch beneath her feet made her smile. The air, cool and sharp, carried the faint sweetness of ripening fruits.
In the village, life adjusted its pace. With no storms to battle, the people rose early, spreading grains on mats to dry in the weak sunlight. Women sat in small groups, pounding nuts and spices into paste, their laughter rising with the rhythmic thuds of wooden pestles. Men returned from the forest carrying baskets of wild mushrooms, roots, and honeycombs, their voices carrying stories of where the trees had begun to "burn with quiet fire."
Charlisa helped one morning at the hearth where old Mara, the matriarch's sister, roasted yams in the coals. The smoky aroma made her stomach grumble. "Taste, girl,"Elder Mara urged, pressing a piece into her hand.
Charlisa bit into it and sighed. The yam was sweet, soft, and rich with the earthy scent of autumn.
Mara chuckled. "Every season gives us its gift. Learn to take it with thanks, but also with care. Too much yam, and your belly will grow lazy."
At the edge of the square, children leapt into piles of dry leaves, sending sprays of red and gold into the air. Their shouts of joy echoed, and one boy called out to Charlisa, "Look! Even the forest wants to play with us now!" She laughed, his words lodging warmly in her heart.
Later in the day, Kael joined a group preparing smoked meat for the colder nights ahead. Charlisa watched him string strips of venison above a low fire. A villager teased, "Kael works faster when someone is watching him," glancing at Charlisa with a grin.
Kael only smirked, not lifting his gaze. "Then let her watch. It will make the work go well."
Laughter rippled around them, but there was no malice in it—only the easy warmth of people sharing a season together.
As the evenings fell, families gathered around hearths, bowls of roasted nuts and stewed greens passed from hand to hand. The air filled with stories—legends of how the forest changed colors to warn the people of the winter ahead, or playful retellings of hunts gone wrong. Charlisa found herself leaning into Kael's side, her heart soothed by the rhythm of this life, so different from what she once knew, and yet now beginning to feel like her own.