The smell of garlic and butter filled the kitchen as Jules moved a wooden spoon through the pan, turning the potatoes until their edges were golden brown. On the counter beside her, a bowl of beaten eggs waited to be poured into the second skillet, while a tray of sausages rested in the oven. She had already sliced the fruit, prepared the toast, and set aside a smaller portion for Kaelith, who had recently decided that anything green on his plate was an insult directed at him personally.
Cooking for eight people had never been a particularly quiet activity, especially when several of those people were growing teenagers with appetites that seemed impossible to satisfy. Fortunately, Jules had learned to enjoy the process. There was something comforting about preparing a meal and knowing that, within the hour, everyone she loved would gather around the same table.
She checked the potatoes before reaching for the eggs. Behind her, the kitchen door swung open, and Daric wandered inside with the expression of someone who had been awake for approximately thirty seconds.
"Is breakfast ready?"
"Good morning to you too."
"Morning. Is breakfast ready?"
Jules gave him an unimpressed look. "Do you want to help?"
"Depends. What kind of help?"
"You can set the table."
Daric considered this, then glanced toward the tray of sausages.
"Can I have one first?"
"No."
"Half?"
"Daric."
"Fine, fine." He opened the cupboard and began taking out plates. "You know, for someone who makes excellent food, you're surprisingly strict about when people can eat it."
"That's because if I let you start, there won't be anything left for everyone else."
"That's an exaggeration."
Jorin entered the kitchen just in time to hear his brother's protest.
"She caught you eating cold chicken out of the refrigerator at midnight."
"That was one time."
"That was yesterday."
Daric pointed a plate at him. "Nobody asked you."
Jules laughed as she poured the eggs into the skillet. The brothers continued arguing while they worked, occasionally interrupting themselves to ask what else needed to be brought to the table. Their voices mingled with the sizzling food and the sound of footsteps upstairs, where the rest of the household was gradually waking.
For a little while, it was easy to imagine that nothing had changed.
There were no ruined cities outside their windows, no desperate survivors fighting over the last bottle of water, and no bodies lying in streets that had once been crowded with ordinary people. Clearwater remained as busy as ever. Cars passed beyond the gates, neighbors walked their dogs, and the morning news continued discussing the same political disagreements and celebrity scandals that had occupied the world before Jules awakened.
She knew how fragile it all was.
But she was beginning to appreciate how much she had missed it.
"Jules!"
Kaelith's voice announced his arrival before the little boy appeared in the doorway, clutching a red toy car in one hand and dragging a stuffed bear by its arm with the other.
Amira followed behind him, looking thoroughly annoyed.
"He keeps taking my pencils."
"Cars need colors," Kaelith explained.
"Cars don't need my good pencils!"
Jules lowered the heat beneath the eggs and crouched to meet her youngest brother. "What are you doing with Amira's pencils?"
"Making road."
"On what?"
Kaelith looked at her as though the answer should have been obvious.
"Paper."
Amira crossed her arms. "He drew all over my picture."
"It was road!"
"It was a princess!"
"Princess need road."
Daric burst out laughing.
Amira turned toward him. "It's not funny!"
"Sorry," he managed, although his expression suggested otherwise.
Jules gently straightened Kaelith's shirt. "How about after breakfast, you ask Amira for a piece of paper that's just for you? Then you can make as many roads as you want."
Kaelith considered the proposal.
"Big road?"
"As big as the paper."
"Two paper?"
"We'll see."
He seemed satisfied with that answer and hurried toward the dining room, where Daric had begun arranging the plates.
Amira lingered.
"He really did ruin it," she said quietly.
"I know. You worked hard on that drawing."
"I was almost finished."
Jules reached out and smoothed a loose strand of hair away from her sister's face. "You can show me what you were drawing later. Maybe we can figure out how to fix it."
Amira brightened slightly. "Really?"
"Really. Now go wash your hands. Breakfast is almost ready."
By the time Serina and Kaelen joined them, the table was crowded with food and conversation. Selina and Tavian came downstairs together, both looking suspiciously tired, while Kaelith insisted on showing his father the car he had been carrying all morning.
Kaelen accepted the little vehicle and examined it with exaggerated seriousness.
"Very impressive. How fast does it go?"
"Super fast!"
"Faster than Daric?"
Kaelith nodded enthusiastically.
"That's not difficult," Jorin said.
Daric kicked him beneath the table.
Their mother noticed immediately.
"If either of you knocks over a glass, you're cleaning the entire dining room."
Both brothers straightened.
Jules placed the final plate of toast in the center of the table and took her seat. As everyone began serving themselves, she glanced around at the familiar faces, listening to overlapping conversations that rarely seemed to have anything to do with one another.
Kaelen was asking Amira about her drawing. Daric was defending his athletic abilities against Jorin's increasingly creative insults. Serina was reminding Kaelith that sausages were not meant to be used as swords.
Selina and Tavian, meanwhile, were unusually quiet.
Jules noticed them exchange a look when Tavian's phone vibrated against his leg. He checked it beneath the table, and Selina immediately leaned toward him.
Whatever they saw caused both of them to smile.
Jules assumed they were sharing another joke and returned her attention to her breakfast.
Upstairs, Selina closed her bedroom door and turned the lock.
Tavian was already sitting at her desk, his laptop open beside a drawing tablet and a half-finished glass of juice.
"Well?" she demanded.
"Give me a second."
"You've been saying that since breakfast."
"Because you keep asking every five seconds."
Selina leaned over his shoulder.
The TutuBe creator dashboard filled the screen. Their first episode of Don't Die Today had gained several more views overnight, bringing the total to fifty-three. There were six likes now, along with a handful of comments.
Selina grinned.
"See? I told you people would watch it."
"Fifty-three people," Tavian corrected.
"That's fifty-three more than zero."
"Technically, some of those are probably us."
"Why do you always have to ruin things?"
"I'm being realistic."
She nudged him aside and scrolled through the comments. One viewer had asked whether Penny would ever encounter a zombie, while another wanted to know why the cartoon girl kept emergency supplies beneath her bed.
A third comment simply said that the video was funny.
Selina read that one twice.
"Someone thinks we're funny."
"Congratulations. Your life's ambition has been achieved."
She ignored him and opened their Zippit account. The shorter clips were performing a little better, although none had attracted much attention yet.
"Maybe we should post the water-storage scene separately," she suggested.
"We already posted the opening."
"That doesn't mean we can't post another clip."
Tavian considered it. "We could use the part where Penny's neighbor tries to fill a cardboard box with water."
Selina laughed. "That was your idea."
"And it was a good idea."
"It was ridiculous."
"Exactly."
She pulled a chair beside him, and the twins began reviewing their next episode. Their voices dropped whenever someone passed in the hallway, though neither seemed particularly worried about being discovered. As far as the rest of the family knew, they were spending their summer vacation drawing, playing games, and making videos for fun.
They intended to keep it that way.
For now, Don't Die Today belonged to them.
After breakfast, Jules cleared the table and began preparing the ingredients she would need for lunch. She had decided on chicken and vegetable fried rice, something she could make in a large batch without spending the entire afternoon standing over the stove. Dinner would take more time, so she seasoned the meat and placed it in the refrigerator to marinate.
Once the kitchen was clean, she carried her notebook upstairs.
The private dimension had occupied her thoughts since the previous evening. Her latest observations suggested that the plants were adapting well to the soil, although several of the tomato seedlings had begun growing faster than their supports could comfortably accommodate.
She had expected accelerated growth. What she hadn't fully anticipated was how quickly small problems could become larger ones when hours passed inside for every minute outside.
Her first attempt at growing lettuce had been straightforward enough, but managing several crops simultaneously required more attention than she had initially planned. Watering, pruning, supporting stems, and checking the soil were all ordinary gardening tasks. The difference was that neglecting them for a few hours outside could mean leaving them unattended for days within the dimension.
Jules settled at her desk and reviewed her notes.
The lettuce was developing well. The beans needed stronger supports. The tomatoes would require more space once their roots expanded, and she wanted to compare the growth of plants watered directly from the stream with those receiving water she had brought from outside.
She also wanted to know whether the stream's unusual properties affected different plants in the same way.
Her pencil paused over the page.
There was another experiment she had been postponing.
The dimension contained soil, water, grass, trees, and growing crops. It clearly supported plant life, but that didn't necessarily mean it could support every form of life.
She had brought objects inside without difficulty. Furniture, tools, seeds, containers, and food could all be transferred through the storage ability or carried into the dimension with her.
But living animals were different.
Jules leaned back in her chair.
The prefabricated chicken enclosure she had ordered hadn't arrived, and she hadn't purchased any birds yet. She had originally intended to wait until the enclosure was assembled before bringing livestock into the dimension, but perhaps she didn't need to wait to answer the most basic question.
Could an animal enter at all?
If it could, the possibilities extended far beyond poultry farming.
She stared at the blank space beneath her latest observations.
In her previous lives, there had been times when a single safe room could have meant the difference between survival and death. She remembered carrying injured people through collapsing buildings, hiding children beneath staircases, and watching temporary shelters become death traps when the creatures outside evolved faster than anyone expected.
A private space beyond the reach of those dangers would have been invaluable.
Yet she had no proof that another person could enter hers.
The idea had occurred to her before, but she had been reluctant to test it on someone she loved without understanding the risks. What if the dimension rejected them? What if the transfer harmed them? What if entering was possible but leaving wasn't?
She couldn't afford to treat those questions casually.
An animal would not answer everything, but it would provide a starting point.
Jules opened her phone and searched for farms around Clearwater.
Several results appeared, including a poultry supplier that sold laying hens directly to customers. After checking the business information, she called to ask whether she could purchase two healthy hens and collect them herself.
The woman who answered explained that the farm had several available birds, though she wanted to know whether Jules already had suitable housing prepared.
"My permanent enclosure is still being delivered," Jules admitted. "I was hoping to buy a temporary pen while I'm there."
"That's fine, as long as it's secure and you've got somewhere shaded to put it. You'll need feed and a waterer too."
"I'll get everything I need."
They arranged a pickup for the afternoon.
Jules ended the call and wrote down the items she would need.
For the first time that morning, she felt a familiar excitement building beneath her concentration.
There was something new to discover.
By lunchtime, the kitchen was filled with the sound of rice sizzling in a wide pan.
Jules stirred the vegetables through the rice, added the cooked chicken, and adjusted the seasoning before calling everyone downstairs. The meal was simple, but the amount she had prepared would have been excessive for almost any household other than theirs.
Jorin appeared first.
"Please tell me that's all for us."
"Who else would it be for?"
"I don't know. You keep cooking enough food to feed an army."
"Considering how much you eat, I'm starting to think I already am."
He grinned and reached for a bowl.
During lunch, Jules mentioned that she planned to visit a farm that afternoon.
Her father looked up.
"A farm?"
"I'm picking up a couple of chickens."
Daric stopped chewing.
"Chickens?"
"Yes."
"Actual chickens?"
Jules looked at him. "Do you know another kind?"
"I just wasn't expecting you to announce that we're getting chickens."
"You're not getting chickens," Serina said. "Jules is getting chickens."
"There's a difference?" Jorin asked.
"A very important one," their mother replied. "Especially if somebody decides to bring them into my house."
Jules laughed. "They won't be inside the house. I'm getting a temporary enclosure until the proper one arrives."
Kaelen leaned back in his chair. "Are these for the dimension?"
"Eventually. I want to test something first."
"Should we be worried?" Daric asked.
"Not unless you're afraid of chickens."
"I'm not afraid of chickens."
Jorin immediately turned toward him.
"What about that rooster at Grandma's?"
Daric's expression changed.
"That rooster was aggressive."
"You ran."
"It attacked me!"
"You climbed onto a picnic table."
"Because it had spurs!"
Kaelen began laughing before Daric finished defending himself, and even Serina couldn't suppress a smile.
Jules listened to them argue, amused by how quickly the conversation had moved away from her announcement. Her brothers could turn almost anything into a competition or an opportunity to embarrass one another, and she had missed that more than she liked to admit.
Eventually, Serina looked toward her.
"Just make sure you understand how to care for them before you start experimenting."
"I will."
"And don't forget that you promised to be free for movie night on Friday."
Jules nodded. "I remember."
"Good. Because Amira has already started making a list of movies, and apparently we're all required to vote."
From the other end of the table, Amira looked up.
"Everyone gets one vote. Except Kaelith, because he keeps picking the same cartoon."
"Cars!" Kaelith announced.
"See?"
Jules smiled and returned to her lunch.
She intended to be there.
There was still plenty of time before Friday.
The farm lay beyond the more crowded neighborhoods of Clearwater, where the roads widened and houses gave way to open fields, fenced pastures, and scattered agricultural buildings.
Jules followed the directions until she reached a gravel driveway beside a modest farmhouse. A painted wooden sign near the entrance identified the property as Willow Creek Farm.
The woman she had spoken to on the phone was waiting near one of the poultry enclosures.
"You must be Jules."
"That's me."
"I'm Mara. Come on, I'll show you the hens."
Jules followed her past a shed filled with bags of feed and stacked equipment. Several chickens wandered through a shaded enclosure, scratching at the ground and occasionally chasing one another away from particularly interesting patches of dirt.
A rooster crowed somewhere beyond the fence.
Mara gestured toward the birds.
"These are already laying. They're healthy, accustomed to people, and generally easy to handle. Some are friendlier than others, of course."
One brown hen approached the fence almost immediately, tilting its head as Jules crouched to examine it.
"She's curious," Mara said. "Always has been."
The hen pecked at the ground near Jules's shoes.
Jules smiled.
"I'll take her."
Mara helped her choose a second bird, a speckled hen that appeared calmer than the first. She then showed Jules several portable pens and explained which would be suitable for short-term housing.
Jules selected a secure enclosure large enough for the two birds, along with feed, bedding, and the necessary containers for water.
As Mara prepared the carriers, Jules asked questions about the hens' feeding habits, behavior, and general health. She wanted to understand what normal activity looked like before attempting to observe them somewhere entirely unfamiliar.
"Are you planning to raise more?" Mara asked.
"Eventually."
"Starting small is a good idea. Chickens aren't difficult once you get used to them, but people underestimate how much care they need."
"I've been doing a lot of gardening lately," Jules said. "I figured livestock would be the next step."
Mara nodded approvingly.
"Well, you've picked two good girls."
Once everything was loaded, Jules thanked her and drove home.
The hens remained quiet for most of the journey, although the brown one occasionally made a low, questioning sound from its carrier.
Jules glanced toward them at a stoplight.
"Almost there."
The bird clucked.
"I know. You didn't ask to come."
She smiled to herself and continued driving.
Back at the house, Jules arranged the temporary enclosure in a shaded section of the property. She had asked Daric to help carry the larger pieces, and he arrived wearing an expression of exaggerated suspicion.
"I thought you said two chickens."
"There are two chickens."
"Then why does this thing look like it could hold twenty?"
"Because I wanted them to have room."
He examined the portable pen.
"Are you planning to start a chicken empire?"
"Maybe."
"Can I invest?"
"No."
"You're very difficult to do business with."
Jules handed him one of the panels.
"Hold this."
Daric sighed but did as instructed.
They worked together until the pen was assembled and secure. Jules added bedding, positioned the feed and water containers, and checked the latches before placing the two hens inside.
The brown hen immediately began investigating its new surroundings, while the speckled one remained near the water.
Daric watched them for a moment.
"Which one's which?"
"I haven't named them."
"You should call that one General."
Jules followed his gaze toward the brown hen.
"Why General?"
"Look at her. She's inspecting everything like she owns the place."
The hen scratched at the bedding.
Jules laughed. "I'll think about it."
"General and Lieutenant."
"Absolutely not."
"You're missing a great opportunity."
Daric left after making several more suggestions, most of which Jules rejected.
Once she was alone, she remained beside the enclosure and observed the hens.
They ate, drank, and explored without showing any obvious signs of distress. The temporary pen was suitable for the moment, and she had no intention of leaving them unattended for long periods while they adjusted.
Her proper enclosure would provide a more permanent arrangement once it arrived.
For now, however, she had another purpose in mind.
Jules retrieved her notebook and reviewed the questions she had written earlier.
The first experiment would be simple.
She would attempt to enter the dimension while holding one hen.
If the transfer succeeded, she would observe the bird's immediate condition, offer food and water, and determine whether it behaved normally.
She wouldn't attempt anything more complicated until she understood the results.
Jules opened the pen and approached the brown hen.
The bird stepped away.
"Come on. I'm not going to hurt you."
She waited until it settled, then carefully lifted it, supporting its body and keeping its wings close. The hen made a brief sound of protest but calmed once Jules held it securely.
Jules looked toward the house.
From somewhere inside came the muffled sound of laughter, followed by Amira's voice calling for Kaelith to stop touching her things.
She smiled faintly.
Then she focused on the cottage inside her dimension.
The transition came as naturally as it always did.
One moment she stood beside the enclosure in Clearwater, with the afternoon air warm against her skin. The next, she was surrounded by the gentle stillness of her private world.
The cottage stood a short distance away, its windows reflecting the soft light that seemed to fill the landscape without any visible source. Beyond it, the cultivated fields stretched toward the stream, and the familiar scent of damp soil drifted through the air.
Jules lowered her gaze.
The hen was still in her arms.
For several seconds, she simply stared.
Then a slow smile spread across her face.
"It worked."
The bird shifted, turning its head toward the unfamiliar surroundings.
Jules laughed quietly.
"It actually worked."
She carried the hen toward an open patch of grass near the cottage, away from the vegetable beds, and crouched before gently placing it on the ground.
The hen stood still at first.
Its head moved from side to side as it examined the grass, the cottage, and the unfamiliar landscape. Then, apparently deciding that nothing required immediate alarm, it took several steps forward and began pecking at the soil.
Jules watched with growing fascination.
The bird moved normally. Its balance appeared unaffected, and there was no obvious distress following the transfer. It scratched at the ground, examined a small patch of vegetation, and continued walking as though it had merely been carried into a different yard.
She opened her notebook.
Subject: Adult laying hen.
Initial transfer: Successful.
Visible physical condition: Normal.
Behavior: Alert, mobile, responsive to surroundings.
Jules paused, studying the bird again before adding another observation.
No immediate signs of transfer-related distress.
She wasn't ready to conclude that the process was entirely harmless. A few minutes of observation couldn't establish that, especially when the dimension operated under conditions she still didn't fully understand.
But the first result was encouraging.
Jules placed a small container of feed on the grass.
The hen approached almost immediately.
After a brief inspection, it began eating.
She offered water next, watching as the bird drank and then returned to investigating the ground.
Neither action appeared unusual.
Jules recorded the observations before checking the time.
She had brought her phone and watch specifically because she wanted to monitor the experiment carefully. The accelerated passage of time inside the dimension was useful, but she knew from her farming experience how easily hours could pass when she became absorbed in a task.
She allowed the hen to explore a limited area while remaining close enough to intervene if necessary.
As she watched, her thoughts returned to the question that had brought her here.
Living animals could enter.
At least, this one could.
Did that mean people could enter too?
Jules rested her notebook against her knees.
She imagined bringing her mother into the cottage, showing her the fields and the stream. She imagined her father walking through the land, immediately asking how much of it could be cultivated. Daric and Jorin would probably find something to compete over before they had even finished exploring.
Amira would want to draw everything.
Kaelith would undoubtedly ask whether he could bring his toy cars.
The thought made Jules smile.
Then her expression slowly changed.
In her first life, there had been no private dimension waiting to shelter them when the mountain split apart. There had been only falling rocks, suffocating gas, and the terrible realization that the people shielding her with their bodies would never stand up again.
Her father had protected her and Amira.
Her brothers had thrown themselves between the danger and the rest of the family.
Her mother had stepped forward without hesitation.
Jules could still remember the weight of the earth, the darkness, and the desperate struggle to breathe.
She pressed her fingers against the edge of the notebook.
If she had possessed this place then, would things have been different?
Could she have pulled them inside before the mountain collapsed?
Could she have saved them?
She had asked herself similar questions throughout eight lifetimes, imagining countless ways events might have changed if she'd known something sooner or acted a little faster.
But this was the first time she had possessed something that might genuinely have altered the outcome.
The hen wandered toward the edge of the cultivated area.
Jules rose and gently redirected it before it could begin scratching around the lettuce.
"Not there. I've worked too hard on those."
The bird made an indignant sound and moved toward another patch of grass.
Jules followed, amused despite herself.
She wasn't going to decide the fate of her family based on one successful chicken experiment. There were still too many unknowns, and she had no intention of exposing someone she loved to a risk she hadn't investigated.
Still, she could no longer dismiss the possibility.
The dimension might be more than a place to grow food and preserve supplies.
It might become a refuge.
She looked toward the cottage again, imagining it filled with voices instead of silence.
For several moments, she allowed herself to enjoy the thought.
Then she returned to her observations.
The experiment continued without incident.
Jules monitored the hen's movement, feeding, and drinking, occasionally comparing its behavior to what she had observed at the farm and in the temporary pen outside. She noticed no obvious differences, although she knew that a proper comparison would require more than a single subject and a short observation period.
The accelerated time presented another question.
If the hen remained inside for several days of dimensional time, would its body experience those days normally? Would it age at the same rate as everything around it? Would egg production follow the dimension's accelerated passage of time?
Those questions would require longer observation and suitable housing.
For now, she didn't want to leave the bird unattended in an unfamiliar environment.
After completing her notes, Jules approached the hen and lifted it carefully into her arms.
"All right, General. Time to go home."
She stopped.
General?
Daric was never going to let her hear the end of that.
Jules shook her head, smiling as she focused on returning to Clearwater.
The familiar landscape faded, and the afternoon warmth of the outside world surrounded her once more.
She was standing beside the temporary enclosure, the hen still held securely against her body.
Jules opened the pen, placed the bird inside with its companion, and fastened the latch.
The brown hen immediately walked toward the feed.
Its speckled companion barely acknowledged its return.
Jules crouched beside them for a while, checking that both appeared comfortable before opening her notebook again.
The experiment had established several things, but it had also created more questions than she'd started with.
She wrote down the results carefully, leaving space beneath them for future observations.
Animal entry: Confirmed.
Animal return: Confirmed.
Short-term survival: Confirmed.
Long-term effects: Unknown.
Human entry: Untested.
She considered the last line for a moment before underlining it.
The discovery was promising, but she wasn't prepared to treat it as proof of anything beyond what she had actually observed.
She would need to conduct further experiments once the permanent enclosure arrived.
Until then, the hens would remain outside, where she could care for them properly.
Jules closed the notebook and leaned back in her chair.
A light breeze moved through the nearby trees, carrying the distant sounds of traffic and someone mowing a lawn farther down the street. The ordinary noises felt strangely reassuring after the stillness of the dimension.
She had spent so many years surrounded by danger that she sometimes forgot what peace sounded like.
Her phone vibrated.
It was a message from her mother.
Are you coming inside soon? I'm about to make tea.
Jules glanced toward the house and smiled.
Coming now.
She stood, checked the pen one last time, and carried her notebook toward the back door.
Inside, she could hear Kaelith laughing at something on the television. Amira was talking over him, apparently attempting to explain why the cartoon character had made a terrible decision, while one of her older brothers argued that she was taking the show far too seriously.
Jules stepped into the kitchen and placed her notebook on the counter.
Serina was filling the kettle.
"How did your experiment go?"
"Better than I expected."
"That's good."
Her mother glanced toward the window.
"And the chickens?"
"Settling in. I think Daric's already named one of them."
Serina smiled. "Of course he has."
Jules washed her hands and opened the refrigerator, checking the meat she had prepared for dinner. It had been marinating long enough, and she still had vegetables to wash and potatoes to prepare.
Serina watched her for a moment.
"Do you need help?"
"I've got it."
"You're sure?"
Jules nodded. "You can keep me company, though."
Her mother seemed pleased by that answer. She took two cups from the cupboard and settled at the counter while Jules began preparing the evening meal.
For a while, they talked about the chickens, the garden, and the possibility of growing enough food to supply the entire family. Serina asked practical questions, and Jules answered what she could, admitting when she didn't yet know something.
She didn't mention the possibility of bringing people into the dimension.
Not yet.
She wanted to understand more before raising everyone's hopes.
As the vegetables began roasting and the kitchen filled with the scent of seasoned meat, Kaelith wandered in carrying his red car.
He stopped beside Jules and tugged gently at her shirt.
"Jules?"
She looked down.
"Yes?"
"Play cars?"
Jules glanced at the cutting board, then toward the oven.
"Dinner's almost ready, sweetheart."
Kaelith looked at the car in his hand.
"After?"
She smiled.
"After dinner, we'll see."
He nodded, apparently accepting the answer, and hurried back toward the living room.
Serina watched him leave.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she lifted her cup and took a slow sip of tea.
Jules returned to the vegetables, already thinking about the measurements she wanted to take during her next visit to the dimension.
The successful experiment had opened a new possibility, one she was eager to explore. Once the chicken enclosure arrived, she could begin observing the birds over longer periods and learn whether the dimension could support livestock as reliably as it supported her crops.
There was so much left to discover.
So much she still needed to do.
Across the counter, Serina watched her daughter work, her expression thoughtful.
She had seen that look on Jules's face before.
It was the same determined concentration that had settled over her almost every day since she came home with the warning that their world was going to end.
Serina understood why her daughter was working so hard. She understood the fear behind it, even if she couldn't begin to imagine everything Jules had endured.
But as Kaelith's small footsteps faded down the hallway, she found herself wondering how many ordinary afternoons would pass before Jules finally allowed herself to enjoy one.
She said nothing.
Not yet.
Instead, she set down her cup and asked whether Jules wanted her to prepare the salad.
This time, Jules accepted.
And together, they finished making dinner.