The cabin stood solid amidst the clearing, its rough-hewn walls and slanted roof a testament to days of hard work and grudging cooperation. The air was calm after another storm, carrying the earthy scent of damp wood and freshly turned soil. Morning light spilled through gaps in the trees, illuminating the clearing in a warm, golden haze.
Lucien crouched near the hearth, carefully placing stones in the pile. His humming filled the quiet space, a tuneless melody that seemed oddly fitting for the moment. He worked with an ease that belied his usual flair, his hands steady as he set the last stone in place. "This," he said with a grin, "is the heart of our home."
