Jace and Tim drop me by a road, still snickering as I glare after the two following a forest trail back into the city proper. They are worse than my brother was, and that's saying something.

You are uncannily quiet, I say to the voice in my head.

A loud honk barks in my mind. "Because... I couldn't... stop... laughing!"

I sigh. Shouldn't have said anything.

The hard-packed dirt road stands between fronds of swaying alfalfa and wheat. The pungent, sunny scent of legumes and soon to be threshed grain comes from a dark silo set to the side of the home. On the other side is the musty barn reeking of fermenting cow manure and horse paddies. I sneeze when the sweet, almost cloying hay in the same barn tickles my nose.

The path I’m following leads to a small home. The place is quaint, reminding me of a smaller version of the lake home where I grew up. Dark timber makes up the majority of the home, with dark-colored shutters and light colored turf as the roofing. The scents coming from the house are both divine and—not. Something was burned… badly. If the sweet apple mixed with the tangy and charcoal scent of smoking pie crust is any indication, I'd say dessert is off the menu.

The family within welcome me with open arms and soft words of inquiry after my well-being and healing, much to my embarrassment.

After David says grace, I'm seated beside Shasta, who is already digging into her bowl of a deep, hearty soup of deer heart and a few root vegetables. It smells divine to my half-starved stomach after mouse sized portions of cheese and tea were choked down my throat with manners.

“Shasta!” Heather scolds. “Mind your manners.”

“Yes, Mamay,” she says, completely unrepentant.

I can’t hide my smile even as I shove down a laugh. “Don’t mind me. I’m just some stranger who showed up on your doorstep without even the clothes on my back.”

“You were a bit in the nude when they took you to the healer's shack.”

“SHASTA!”

I thought all embarrassment had been beaten out of me long ago. My continuously red cheeks of this day tells another story entirely.

David coughs into his hand. “Try some of the soup, son. I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking.” His voice is a bit… strained.

“I’m so sorry, Roland. I promise I teach her better,” Heather says with exasperation while pinning her daughter with a barbed glare.

I don’t really know what to say. Court doesn’t teach you how to deal with a misbehaving child and distraught mother. Assassin school is even worse for this type of situation.

“I was worse when I was her age.” The words pop out of my mouth with little forethought, surprising me.

“Realwy?” Shasta asks through another slurp of soup.

I take a bite, giving myself time to think, then lose all semblance of thought at the burst of spices mixed with a perfect hint of sweetness to bring out the meat. “What is in this? It's divine!”

David chuckles as Heather is now the one to color. “It’s my Grandma’s recipe. Spices of turmeric and basil are combined with a special mineral salt to extract the flavor of the deer, while onions and garlic help with the wildness of the meat. A small spoon of honey mead gives a sweetness my grandmother raved over.”

I nod, digging into the bowl with a relish similar to that of the child beside me, making David grin.

“In answer to your question, little rider, it was a miracle I survived,” I say, swallowing a soft slice of meat.

“Did your Mamay disipliney you too?”

I smother a grin, even as my heart hurts in my chest. “Many times, little one, and let me tell you, things typically did go better for me when I listened. I was just too stubborn. But I will always treasure my mother's teachings, for it wasn’t until after she was gone that I realized the wisdom of her words.”

Her small hand is placed on my forearm. I flinch slightly, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “That hurts,” she says with all the seriousness of an adult in a tiny body. And I realize she’s a lot sharper than anyone gives her credit for.

A deep breath helps some of the numbness recede. “Yes, so treasure your mamay. She’s a good one, even if she does discipline you.” I wink at the little munchkin, then say honestly. “You know she loves you when she disciplines you, for a mother often disciplines the one she loves, for she wants you to have a better future. It would be easier for her to leave you be and let you be hurt if you didn’t heed her words. She loves you too much for that.”

Shasta nods, ruminating on what I said and hopefully taking my words to heart. In all actuality, it probably went in one ear and out the other.

She goes back to her food, chewing much more politely as her mind mules over my hard words.

“You are full of surprises, Roland,” David says, rubbing a hand down his chin.

Heather nods, her eyes filled with tears she refuses to let fall.

I shrug. “Life is a harsh master. But there is good, if only you choose to look. How long have you lived here?”

He goes with the subject change willingly. “I’ve owned this place for more than forty years now, always returning after the journeys of life. My Ma, Pa, and brothers migrated here at the end of the Shifter Wars looking for food. We were trying to make it to the coast, but Ma died from Heathen’s Pox and malnutrition. I barely survived thanks to Healer Morgana, and we settled here. It’s been my home ever since. Little wolf," David grins at Heather as she rolls her eyes at the nickname, but there's a warmth that flows between them; one of love and acceptance, "and her beautiful mother arrived on my doorstep soon after my Pa died of old age. She saved me from a boring life of bachelorhood, constantly making me thank my lucky stars that I never had kids.” He sends a teasing smile to Heather even as his eyes crease with warmth.

She laughs and slaps David’s arm. “You old geezer. You would’ve died of boredom without me and little rascal here.” She tickles Shasta, making the little one squeal.

This—it’s soothing. This little family, not made of blood, but of choice and love. It’s something that reminds me of my adopted family and how welcoming they were to a Kursk.

It reminds me that despite my upbringing and how often the rotten rule; the rulers are not their people, and everyone loses in war, no matter who or what you are.

There are still good people. People who accept others as they are with love and respect. It just seems they are few and far between... and yet, there are so many more than I once thought. Good people are the why and how I'm still here. They are the reason I live and breath and fight. The only reason hope lives on is because they don't give in. I'm grateful for those who still choose right over easy. There is still good out there, and it is worth fighting for.

For now, I'll treasure these moments with this little family and how they have welcomed me into their home and hearts just in time for the Harvest Epoch celebration.