The next morning, rain still drizzled lightly against the windows. Elena awoke in Coren's guest room, wrapped in a warm blanket, the fire crackling softly. She stretched and felt grateful—dry, safe, and warm.
After breakfast, she followed Coren through the muddy village streets back to her cottage. As soon as they arrived, she froze. Her room was soaked. Puddles reflected the gray sky, and water dripped steadily from a few weak spots in the roof.
Coren's eyes narrowed in concern. "Looks worse than I thought," he muttered. Without hesitation, he set down his bag, carried the ladder to the side of the cottage, and began checking the roof. Elena watched from below, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment that he had to see her little home in such a state.
"Careful," she called, gripping the railing of the small porch.
"I've got this," he said calmly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Don't worry; your roof isn't going to win today."
He climbed carefully, replaced the damaged shingles, sealed the cracks, and worked efficiently until the leak was completely stopped. Water no longer fell into her room. Elena felt a rush of gratitude and admiration.
Once he came down, she started cleaning up, mopping the puddles and moving wet rugs aside. Coren helped where he could, carrying a bucket here and there, but mostly stood close by, making small, witty remarks that made her smile despite the damp morning.
After the cottage was tidied, Elena prepared a warming meal in the small kitchen. Coren helped by chopping vegetables and stirring the pot when asked. The smell of food filled the room, mixing with the faint scent of rain and wet earth from outside.
They sat together at the table, the warmth of the fire and the meal surrounding them. Conversation flowed easily, with light teasing and quiet laughter. For the first time since arriving in the village, Elena felt a deep, comforting sense of home—and perhaps something more stirring in her heart.
As they finished the meal, Coren leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. "Elena," he said after a pause, "winter isn't far off. You should start thinking about firewood—stack enough to last through the colder months. It will make your evenings easier, and you won't have to worry when the first frost comes."
Elena nodded, her mind already turning over the task. "Yes… I hadn't thought much about it yet."
"I can help," he continued, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'll have the woodcutter prepare a pile for you. You just need to make sure it's ready to store properly. Dry, stacked, and safe from rain."
She glanced at him, grateful and a little shy. "Thank you, Coren. I'll make sure it's all arranged. It's… practical, isn't it?"
"Very practical," he said, his tone teasing just slightly. "A warm home is worth more than any comfort we imagine. And I think the village will be glad to see you ready for the winter."
Elena smiled, feeling the weight of the coming season but also the reassurance that she wasn't entirely alone. Together, they cleaned up the dishes, and she began thinking about how to organize the firewood once it arrived. For the first time in years, she felt prepared, protected, and… capable.
Elena stepped outside, pulling the door gently closed behind her. The crisp air nipped at her cheeks, carrying the scent of damp earth and the first hints of autumn. She walked slowly around the cottage, examining the small yard, trying to decide the best spot for stacking firewood.
A shaded corner near the back of the house seemed ideal—close enough to bring the wood inside easily, yet sheltered from rain and wind. She measured the space with her eyes, imagining neat rows of logs stacked high, ready to keep her cottage warm during the long winter nights.
While she planned silently, Coren had already made his way to the village woodcutter. Elena knew him by reputation—strong, reliable, and kind enough to lend his skill to those in need. Coren's voice carried easily over the early morning breeze as he spoke to the man, explaining exactly how much wood would be needed and when it should be delivered.
Elena returned to her cottage, pacing the yard, tapping her fingers along the wooden fence as she thought about stacking the logs. She pictured each piece of firewood neatly placed, imagining herself tending to it during cold evenings, feeling the warmth of the flames crackling inside.
By midday, the sound of hooves and creaking carts drew her attention. She turned toward the path and saw the woodcutter approaching, his cart piled high with freshly cut logs. Coren walked beside him, giving directions and offering encouragement.
Elena felt a flush of gratitude and a strange flutter of something deeper in her chest—relief, admiration, and something she wasn't ready to name. She hurried forward to meet them, her hands clasped in front of her.
"Perfect spot, right here," Coren said, pointing to the corner she had chosen. The woodcutter nodded in agreement and set to work, unloading logs and stacking them carefully, following Coren's instructions.
Elena stayed nearby, moving logs here and there, brushing off bark, and helping where she could. Each piece she lifted warmed her arms and made the task feel satisfying, grounding her in this new life that was slowly becoming her own.
By late afternoon, the pile of firewood stood tall and neatly stacked, ready for the winter ahead. Elena stepped back, hands on her hips, and let out a soft laugh of satisfaction.
Coren leaned against the fence, watching her with a small, approving smile. "See? Winter won't know what hit it," he said with a teasing lilt.
She smiled shyly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Thanks to both of you," she murmured. The warmth in her chest wasn't just from the sun or the exertion—it was the knowledge that someone cared enough to help, that she wasn't entirely alone anymore.