Emma was not alone.
Elias was at her side, bandaged but moving with his usual careless ease, watching her with a boyish grin. He reached for the grain bucket as if to help, though from this distance, it looked more like mischief than assistance. Emma swatted his hand away, her mouth moving rapidly, no doubt scolding him, but her efforts were half-hearted.
Lorraine could not hear their words from this distance, but the occasional bursts of laughter and indignant squawks of the doves carried faintly to where she sat. At one point, Elias must have said something particularly provoking, because Emma stiffened and turned away in mock outrage, her braid whipping behind her like a banner. Elias, undeterred, reached out to gently tug at her sleeve.
The sight of the two of them, young, flushed by the sunset, entangled in their small, unguarded moment, was oddly touching.
