Rain seeped through the shingles, soaking his shirt, making the wood slippery, but he secured the beam until it no longer shifted. When he climbed down, his breath was uneven from the effort. Nalaina looked at him with a seriousness he had not seen before. "You do not think of yourself first," she said quietly, "even in danger." Elias wiped water from his face. "The horses can't defend themselves.
Someone has to." The answer was simple to him, but Nalaina seemed to study it deeper. She stood closer than usual, her eyes taking in the exhaustion in his movements and the steadiness he forced into them. The storm raged for hours. Water ran beneath the barn door in thin streams. The horses paced nervously, hooves thudding against the stall floors.
Elias stayed beside them, speaking in low, calm tones until they settled. Nalaina joined him, offering grain and stroking a mare's neck until the trembling stopped. At one point, lightning lit the barn interior in a stark flash. Oyana gripped a post, breathing through her fear. Lances sat near the wall with her knees pulled close, trying to steady herself.
Elias moved toward them, crouching so his voice carried without shouting. "The barn will hold. The posts are strong. Nothing here will fall." The reassurance worked. Not because his tone was forceful, but because they could see he believed what he said.
When the rain finally weakened, the air grew heavy with the smell of wet earth and soaked wood. The storm moved east, leaving only distant rumbles behind. The widows remained seated for a moment, letting their nerves settle. Elias felt an unexpected shift inside himself. Their presence did not disturb him.
Their fear did not burden him. Instead, he felt a quiet sense of responsibility, one that did not come from obligation, but from a natural pull to protect those who trusted him. As the sky lightened, Nalaina approached. Her hair clung to her face and her clothing was damp, but her posture remained steady. "You welcomed us without question," she said softly.
"You did not hesitate." Elias shook his head. "You needed shelter. Anyone would have done the same." "No," she replied, her voice firm but not harsh. "Not anyone." Her words struck deeper than he expected. He looked away, unsure how to respond.
The widows prepared to return to their camp as the rain slowed to a mist. Before leaving, Lansa paused in the doorway. "You helped us feel safe," she said. "That is rare," Oyana added. "We thank you." When they stepped into the clearing, the ground glistened under the weak morning light.
Nalaina lingered a moment longer than the others. The wind had softened, brushing lightly across the barnyard. "You wonder why we came to you," she said, "but you show the reason every time you act." Elias felt his throat tighten. "I'm not sure I'm the man you believe I am." She shook her head gently. "You do not see yourself clearly, but we see enough." Then she walked away, following the other widows down the muddy trail.