The quiet serenity of the woods beyond Brighthaven was interrupted by the sound of cracking wheels and startled horses. A young man tightened his grip on the reins, his icy blue eyes narrowing as the carriage shuddered to a halt. Beside him, his grandfather, a tall man with streaks of silver in his dark hair, remained composed.
"Steady, Elliot," his grandfather's voice rumbled softly.
Elliot glanced at him, his expression unreadable, and nodded. He dismounted from his seat, landing on the forest floor with a muted thud. His grandfather followed, leaning slightly on his carved walking cane, which had the emblem of an eagle's talon gripping a gem glinting at the top.
The carriage wheel was buried in soft mud, one of the spokes fractured. Elliot examined it with practiced precision, moving deliberately and calmly.
"We'll need help," his grandfather remarked, scanning the dense trees.
"There's a town nearby," Elliot replied tersely, his voice low and steady.
His grandfather nodded. "Then we'll move. We'll leave the carriage."
Without further discussion, they set off, their footsteps crunching against the fallen leaves. The air grew cooler as they ventured deeper into the woods, their presence unsettling the birds above. Elliot remained alert, his sharp senses attuned to every rustle and movement.
They reached the edge of the woods as the first signs of twilight painted the horizon. Ahead, the faint silhouette of Brighthaven emerged—a collection of modest cottages nestled amidst rolling hills. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the distant chatter of townsfolk floated through the air.
Elliot and his grandfather exchanged a glance, an unspoken agreement passing between them.
Granny Elle stood by her garden, her hands busy tending to her herbs. Her keen eyes caught sight of the approaching figures—two strangers, their gait purposeful yet unhurried. She straightened, brushing dirt from her hands, and waited as they neared.
"Good evening," Elliot's grandfather greeted, his voice rich and courteous.
Granny Elle inclined her head. "Evening. Passing through, are you?"
"Our carriage broke down in the woods," he explained. "We're seeking assistance and perhaps a place to rest for the night."
Granny Elle's gaze flicked to Elliot, who stood a step behind his grandfather, his posture guarded. Her instincts pricked, sensing an unusual depth to the boy.
"There's an inn down the road," she said, pointing. "But I wouldn't mind lending a hand first. You'll need tools for that wheel."
Elliot's grandfather smiled faintly. "Much appreciated. I'm Edward."
"Call me Elle," she replied. "And you are?"
Her question hung in the air, directed at Elliot.
"Elliot," he said simply, his tone clipped.
Granny Elle nodded knowingly, her smile warm yet observant. "Well, Elliot, you look like you've had a long day. Come inside. I'll fetch you something to eat while we sort this out."
Inside Granny Elle's cottage, the air was filled with the scent of herbs and freshly baked bread. Elliot remained by the door, his eyes scanning the room with quiet curiosity. Edward and Elle exchanged pleasantries, their conversation flowing easily.
Aurora arrived minutes later, carrying a basket of wildflowers. Her eyes widened at the sight of the strangers, and she hesitated, her gaze locking briefly with Elliot's.
"This is Aurora," Granny Elle introduced. "My little helper."
Aurora managed a polite smile, though her curiosity was evident. Elliot acknowledged her with a curt nod, his expression impassive.
As the adults continued their discussion, Aurora found herself stealing glances at Elliot. Something about him felt different—his stillness and the way he seemed to observe everything without revealing anything about himself.
Elliot, in turn, noticed her curiosity but remained indifferent. His focus was elsewhere, his thoughts guarded as always.
The quiet tension in the room was broken when Granny Elle returned with a plate of food and a warm smile. "Eat. Tomorrow, we'll figure out that carriage."
Elliot and Edward thanked her, their gratitude genuine but reserved. As they ate, Granny Elle couldn't shake the feeling that these strangers carried more with them than just broken wheels and weary steps.