(Two weeks later)
Sprinkles of snow feather the withering earth, drifting through the slow, frosty air.
The cold twilight of a blue–grey evening is brushed with shades of orange, red, and violet—
reflections of flickering leaves in the forest, still clinging by the fragile thread of their petioles... a hushed hope that winter might be a little kinder to the spirit of the forest.
Yet even in the gales of the coldest months, the sacred peace endures—until the hope of spring breathes life once more.
And the answers to her prayers are in the joyful giggles of children echoing through the forest,
trialed by the harsh turning of seasons.
Neva wears a soft smile as she watches her children with their friend playing chase in the snow blanketed clearing—which is the front yard of their stone cottage in the forest.
Sometimes they slip and fall on the snowy, dew-washed grass, but they laugh the hurt away in joy.
A hand is offered, and with their fearless little hearts, they always rise and run again.
"Mumma!" Inaya shrieks, racing toward Neva who stands in the doorway beneath the newly crafted wooden balcony—
while Isaiah, laughing mischievously, chases her with a fistful of snow.
Neva nearly stumbles as the children whirl around her.
"Careful," she says gently, while Inaya clutches the skirt of her dress, hiding behind her as Isaiah stretches his arms toward his shrieking sister.
"I'm trying to get some sleep here!" a frustrated voice yells from behind.
The twins freeze mid–step, and even Adam skids to a halt, following Rhean's line of sight as he suddenly stops chasing.
Neva turns just in time to see Agent Knight stomping toward them, his strides cutting through the hallway that leads to the cottage's entrance. The twins instantly cling to her, hearts leaping as they catch the storm of fury twist Knight's face.
Neva's eyes narrow, instinctively pulling her children closer as Knight stops just before her, his gaze brooding and crossed.
"Shut those brats up before I fucking lose it," Knight snarls, his voice low and tight.
"They're children. What did you expect them to act like?" Neva snaps back curtly.
Knight sneers at her.
"Mama," Rhean says, the snow crunching under his boots as he hurries protectively toward her, Adam trailing quietly behind.
"Listen, woman." Knight steps closer, looming over her, his gaze shadowed and hard.
"I can barely steal a second of rest. Unlike you, I have a job to do. So have mercy—and get those brats to shut. The. Fuck. Up."
Neva frowns, her gaze dimming.
"You can't talk to my Mumma like that!" Isaiah bursts out, cheeks puffed in anger as he glares up at Knight.
Knight arches a brow at the child.
"Or what?" he smirks, leaning back with arms crossed, his stance dripping with mockery.
"When Papa comes back, he'll make you pay for this!" Isaiah snarls, his fists clutching his mother's dress for courage, his small voice burning with fierce anger.
Knight grins. "Oh, I'd be the happiest man alive if your father comes back. But you see, he's run away like a cowar—'
"Please," Neva cuts him off.
"They won't be loud again," she murmurs, steadying her voice even as exhaustion—both emotional and physical, drags at her.
Her lids are heavy with sleep—too tired to fight this now.
"Come inside," she tells the children, turning toward the door.
Knight clenches his jaw, a cruel shadow darkening his gaze as he tries to shatter her calm.
"Don't you think you're a little too relaxed, considering you're the one who dragged us into this mess?" he sneers.
Neva pays him no heed, her hand pressed to Rhean's back as she gently nudges him toward the door.
But the boy's stance remains firm, his little fists balled tight in defiance.
"You really think you're some kind of saint now?" Knight snaps, his voice laced in venom, ego raw against her calm defiance.
"What's going on here?"
Neva freezes at the doorway as that all-so-familiar voice reaches her ears—gentle and deep, with a sharp edge tinged in caution.
"Dada!" Rhean cries, eyes lighting up as he races across the yard toward his father.
Neva turns, her gaze meeting Rhett's. He bends down as Rhean reaches him, scooping the boy up into his arms with ease.
Knight rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, unfazed by the sudden arrival.
"Dada, that man was being mean to Mama," Rhean says, pointing at Knight.
"Was he?" Rhett asks, his gaze hardening as he strides toward the doorway, his son cradled firmly in his arms, snow clinging to their hair and jacket like scattered feathers.
"It's nothing," Neva mumbles, turning her back to them and stepping inside.
The three children wait quietly in the hallway, and her husband's arrival finally brings a flicker of relief, softening her tired shoulders.
"Rhean, go inside with your mother." Rhett brushes the snow from the boy's curls, before gently setting him down on the floor.
"Yes, Dada," Rhean replies, darting inside and grasping the hand Neva holds out for him.
Once they vanish from sight, Rhett turns to Knight.
"What's your problem with her?"
Knight's face twists in disgust.
"I just can't stand women like her," he says, tone flat, head tilting as his gaze fixes on Rhett, empty and unreadable.
"You're just an insecure man," Rhett says, voice even. "Spiteful, because you'll never measure up."
Knight clenches his jaw, eyes burning black. "You motherf—"
"Go home," Rhett cuts in, calm but scathing. "I'll let Elk know."
He pauses, head turning slightly at the sound of boots scrunching through snow.
"I'm not leaving until I catch that bastard with my own fucking hands," Knight spits, fists coiled tight, his face flushed, trembling with fury.
One of the guards steps closer, boots crunching in the snow, his silent presence anchoring the air with a stiff warning.
"Where were you?" Rhett asks, his eyes fixed on the guard, ignoring Knight's drivel.
"I went home—to the village for a lunch break, Boss," the guard replies, stepping closer, snow clinging to his coat and knitted woolen hat.
"Where's the other one?" Rhett asks, his eyes narrowing as the guard named Jeremiah stops before them, moisture dripping from his coat.
"He went to patrol the border."
"Didn't I make it clear?" Rhett's voice cuts in, strict and edged. "One of you should always remain here."
Jeremiah bows his head, eyes lowered. "Apologies, Boss. It will not happen again."
"You weren't recruited to wander. Be focused," Rhett warns, his tone clipped.
He casts a brief glance toward Knight—who's irritated, still simmering with anger—before heading inside.
"Yes, Boss," Jeremiah mutters just as Rhett shuts the door behind him.
"Damn that bastard!" Knight fumes, breath ragged as he yanks the door open, storming into the cottage with a slam that shatters the fragile peace against the approaching gale.
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