beside her.
She had finally chosen his name.
Samuel.
Because some names deserved to keep walking forward.
Claire placed a hand on Elsie’s shoulder.
“Come inside,” she said. “Dinner’s ready.”
Elsie looked once toward the dark line of trees.
She thought about the rope, the oak, the hidden hollow, the road, and everything her grandfather had taught her without ever explaining why it would matter.
Then she closed her fingers around the coin.
The knot had held.
And so had she.
Sometimes the smallest person in the room carries
