It's a quiet, rainy afternoon. Kairo is helping his mother, Lyrielle, carry herbs back from the forest. She loves walking under the trees, exploring every hidden path and letting her legs stretch after long days at home.
"Kairo, make sure you don't fall—there's a lot of mud here! Your foot might get stuck!" Lyrielle calls out, carefully making her way through the slippery trail. Her arms are stretched out wide for balance, her boots squelching softly with each step.
Kairo nods without much concern, stomping through the mud like it's a game. A bundle of freshly gathered herbs sits snugly in a handmade basket on his back, swaying with his movement.
The wind whistles softly through the branches. Leaves drift down like golden raindrops, mixing with the quiet patter of actual rain hitting the earth. Their clothes are damp, their cloaks heavy with water, but the soft rhythm of nature keeps them moving.
They're almost home when a carriage suddenly speeds past the road ahead, wheels cutting deep into the mud. A splash of cold, dirty water slaps against them before they can even react.
The driver doesn't stop.
"I can't believe he didn't stop after that," Lyrielle mutters, brushing mud from her sleeve. "Why was he in such a rush, I wonder…"
"Maybe something happened," Kairo shrugs. "Or there were bad guys chasing him."
Lyrielle's eyes widen. She looks around quickly, scanning the quiet forest edge. But there's nothing—no movement, no sound except for the rain.
"Let's go," she says, voice lower now. "We need to get home before nightfall."
They continue their walk, now more alert, watching the shadows between the trees. Fortunately, nothing else happens.
By the time they reach town, the rain has slowed to a stop. Just a few more turns, and they can see the outline of their home through the mist. Smoke curls from the chimney, warm and inviting.
Darian, Kairo's Father, is waiting at the door with a thick towel and the comforting scent of firewood behind him.
"Lyrielle, Kairo! I was about to come looking for you," he says, stepping forward as Lyrielle hands him the basket from her shoulders. "You're late today."
"The rain turned the path into a muddy mess," Lyrielle replies, tugging off her boots with a sigh. "Then some carriage nearly ran us over—and splashed us with even more water. He must've been in a hurry."
Darian shakes his head and carries the basket into the kitchen. Kairo follows close behind, his shoes squelching loudly, leaving a trail of wet footprints and little splatters of mud.
"Well, that sounds like an adventure," Darian chuckles. "Let's get you both cleaned up."
"I was going to fight that guy, but he didn't stop!" Kairo announces proudly, spinning in a circle. "He wouldn't have stood a chance against me—The Flaming Wind!"
Lyrielle laughs, disappearing into the bathroom. "I'm sure he wouldn't have, my little warrior."
Darian scoops Kairo up easily. "I've never seen you this dirty," he says with a grin. "Let's get you into some dry clothes before the mud starts growing roots."