Ewan took off the rough canvas apron, gently patting the young boy's shoulder, the corners of his lips curling slightly: "Well, of course we are taking them to sell. Get some early rest, we have to wake up at the crack of dawn tomorrow."
Early morning.
Autumn dew still hung heavily, soaking the canopy of the old oak leaves, the atmosphere carrying the biting chill of the deep woods. The sky had only just begun to crack with a faint, pale ribbon of light, yet their household was already bustling, their preparations complete.
The dirt trail gradually opened up before them. Throughout the morning, no one uttered the word "selling", yet a tacit understanding was etched across every face.
