After unpacking all the supplies, Noelle busied himself with making their small home a bit more livable. He lit the new lamps, watching with satisfaction as the warm glow filled the room. The cost had been steep, but the difference was undeniable. Next, he discarded the old, worn utensils and replaced them with the new ones he'd bought. Finally, he turned his attention to preparing a meal for Thorne. Solid food was still out of the question, so he settled on a thick beef porridge infused with herbs—hardly appetizing, but it would help Thorne's recovery.
When the porridge was ready, Noelle hesitated, looking at the unappealing mixture in the bowl. He sighed and carried it to the bedroom where Thorne rested. Placing the bowl on the table nearby, he gently touched Thorne's shoulder, careful not to startle him.
"Thorne," he called softly. The former general's eyes fluttered open, and Noelle smiled at him. "It's time to eat."
He helped Thorne sit up, adjusting the pillows behind him. "I went to town today," Noelle began, his voice light as he started feeding Thorne the porridge. "It was exhausting, honestly, but I met this amusing brother and sister. The girl, Mona, is quite a spitfire. She tried to threaten me at first, can you believe that? She said her brother was Big Ben, a hunter, and that he would take care of me if I tried anything."
Noelle chuckled at the memory, spooning another mouthful of porridge into Thorne's mouth. "Turns out, Big Ben is just a big softie under all that gruffness. He ended up helping me out the whole day, even carried all the supplies up the hill. Mona rode on his shoulders the entire time, chattering away about this and that. She's ten, but she talks like she's much older, telling me all about her brother's various jobs and how he's the strongest man in town. It was adorable."
He continued to ramble, not minding that Thorne's responses were limited to small nods and quiet hums. "I even managed to convince Ben to bring fresh meat and do some other chores for us. Poor guy probably feels a bit scammed, but he agreed. It'll be nice not having to go down to town all the time."
Noelle paused, looking at Thorne with a soft smile. "I'm sorry the porridge isn't great, but it should help you get stronger. I'll try to make something better once you can eat solid food."
Thorne's eyes were focused on Noelle's face, a mix of emotions swirling in their depths, but Noelle kept talking, filling the silence with his comforting presence.
*
When Noelle returned that evening, he was full of energy, recounting his trip to town with a fervor that made it sound like he had fought off a dragon rather than completed a mundane errand. His words tumbled out in a lively stream, hands gesturing wildly as he described each moment in vivid detail. It was hard not to be drawn into his enthusiasm, despite knowing the reality was far less dramatic than he made it seem.
But earlier, when I woke to find the house empty, the quiet nearly drove me mad. The silence was suffocating, pressing in on me from all sides. I should have been used to it—after all, solitude had been my constant companion for years. Yet, the stillness felt different now. Since Noelle had entered my life, the emptiness I once found comfort in had become unbearable.
It wasn't just the lack of sound; it was the absence of him. The house felt colder, darker, without his presence. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the wind outside, only served to highlight how dreadfully empty the place was without him. A single day, just a few short hours, and already the silence gnawed at me, pulling me back into the darkness I thought I had escaped.
When he finally returned, the relief I felt was almost overwhelming. His voice, animated and cheerful, filled the void that had grown in his absence. It didn't matter that he was talking about something as simple as shopping—his words, his presence, chased away the silence that had threatened to consume me. I listened to his animated narration, feeling the tension in my chest slowly ease. It was then that I realized just how much I had come to rely on him, not just for care, but for the light he brought into this desolate place.