Adam watched Elliot frown at the glowing metal, his silent smile and hands trembling around the blackened pincers. He could feel the boy's eagerness as if it were his own.
No.
His wrist itched as well. It wasn't to earn points or get his answer; that had flown to the back of his head. It was to create something different from weapons or armor. A tool to brighten Elliot's face each time mockery made him doubt his dream—a whispered reminder, "Nothing's impossible."
Under his guidance, the pounding of Elliot's worn hammer echoed against the scalding white metal. Sparks flew around his short frame, sweat glistening between his blond brow, yet his smile never faltered.
Even as Adam asked him to fold the cooling metal and heat it again, he simply nodded. When the unusual demand to twist the blazing ore came, he did it without asking why. He would see and understand.
