Eira
Eira stepped through the back door of the bakery, a small crate filled with small bags of sugar clutched between her hands. Her cloak was heavy with river mud, and her muscles ached with a fatigue that went bone-deep, but her eyes immediately locked onto the cellar door.
"Oh, Eira!"
The voice made her snap her head around. There, standing in the doorway of the shop was Mrs. Gable, her heavy, frayed shawl wrapped tight against the draft.
The older woman rushed forward, catching Eira's cold hands in hers. "I've been so frightened for you. Running off like that... I thought the grief had finally pulled you under."
"I'm sorry," Eira forced the words out, her voice raspy. "I shouldn't have rushed out like that. It was… reckless."
She looked over Mrs. Gable's shoulder at Milla, who looked like she'd survived a riot. Milla's hair was a frizzy halo of escaped pins, and a streak of flour across her forehead looked like a desperate war-paint smudge.
"You're safe, that's all that matters," Mrs. Gable sighed, patting Eira's cheek.
Mrs. Gable looked over at Milla. "Where is Noa, Milla? Every time I come here, the boy is always darting everywhere with a broom or a crate. You sure know how to keep him occupied."
Milla leaned heavily on the counter, exhaling a breath that seemed to deflate her whole body. "Noa is... out on an errand."
Milla glanced toward the cellar door. "Honestly, I don't know how I'm standing. If it weren't for... well, I had some help with the heavy lifting this morning. The flour is all moved, and the wood is split."
"Help?" Mrs. Gable's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't know you'd hired a new hand."
"I haven't," Milla said quickly, her face flushing. "Just a... a traveller looking for a bit of coin. Very strong. Did extra chores I didn't even ask for. But he's shy. Stays in the back to do the packaging so the customers don't fuss over a stranger in my kitchen."
Milla started frantically folding a cardboard box. Milla caught Eira's eye and gave a tiny shake of her head.
'They aren't there, the look said.
Eira's heart gave a strange, uncomfortable thud. She had left Soren in the dark, healing but fragile.
She had treated him like an enemy and a tool, yet now that he wasn't where she'd left him, a sharp spark of anxiety pierced through her exhaustion.
Where are you, Soren? She wondered, her hand instinctively clutching the pouch at her belt.
Mrs. Gable kept talking about tea and rest, but Eira was no longer listening.
She was staring at the floorboards, listening for the sound of a heavy footstep that wasn't there.
────────────────────────────────────────────
Soren
The afternoon sun was beginning to dip when the cellar trapdoor suddenly swung open.
Milla, who was currently trying to box a dozen delicate eclairs, let out a shriek and dropped her tongs. "If that's a Warden, I'm hitting them with the rolling pin!"
Soren and Noa scrambled up from the dark, breathless and covered in tunnel-mud. Soren was shielding his chest with one arm, his jacket bulging strangely.
"You're alive!" Milla wailed, her voice cracking in a goofy, dramatic way, as it did when she was overwhelmed. She burst into tears, waving her floury hands in the air. "I thought you were dead! I thought the pipes collapsed! I had to package thirty-five orders by myself! I had to close shop early! Do you have any idea how much my wrists hurt?"
Noa gasped for air, leaning against the flour bin. "We had to... we had to go back. For the fox."
Eira stepped into the kitchen, her heart racing.
She watched as Soren unzipped his wool jacket. A small, orange head popped out. The fox blinked at the bright lights, let out a tiny, high-pitched yawn, and began to nuzzle Soren's chin.
"You went back to the docks for a fox?" Eira asked, her voice soft.
"He was alone," Soren mumbled, gently stroking the animal's ears. "I couldn't leave him in the cold."
Eira looked at him. She really looked at him. She saw the mud on his boots, the exhaustion in his eyes, and the way he held that tiny animal like it was the most precious thing in the world.
For the first time, the image of the "River-Boy" who ruined her life flickered and changed. She saw a boy who risked everything for a creature that had no one else.
Soren caught her gaze. He expected her to scold him, to tell him he was reckless and a fool.
Instead, Eira felt a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the ovens. A faint, genuine smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. The first smile she had given him since they met.
"Welcome back, Soren," she whispered.
Soren froze, the breath catching in his throat. In that second, the violet lantern at his hip gave a single, steady flash of amber.