I looked back at the nursery. Noah was currently crouched down, looking completely overwhelmed as three toddlers—all with his dark, intense eyes—attempted to climb his back simultaneously. He looked exhausted, but for the first time, he didn't look like he wanted to run. Good for him.
I knew I shouldn't interrupt this. This was his penance and his healing all wrapped into one. But the vision of a kingdom that didn't just survive, but thrived, was burning too bright to keep quiet.
It was spring, and the best time to farm. By the end of summer, a harvest was imminent.
But yeah, I shouldn't interrupt this. And so, I waited until the sun began to dip, casting long, honey-colored shadows across the playground.
The mothers were starting to gather their pups, the air filled with the tired, happy whimpers of children who had played themselves into a stupor.
