Late December, morning.
Elias sits on the porch steps, whittling curls into the snow with a stick. It has been eleven days since the coyote hunt.
Now, his fingers move quickly and smoothly with the knife, and he can hear the chickens cluck before they are fully awake.
Two nights ago, he drove Grayson away at the creek. The sound of the fire still echoes in his mind, and the farm has become peaceful; no groans or chills, just peaceful quiet.
Daniel is by the barn tossing feed to the hens, his shotgun hanging loosely over his shoulder. A rare whistle escapes him, an old tune sung a bit off-key.
Inside, Mara is stoking the hearth, and the smell of coffee drifts out as she bangs a pot a little too loudly.
Elias stands, brushing off shavings from his pants, and heads inside. He speaks in a low easy voice, "It smells like you're burning the beans again."
Mara turns with a small grin and a scar on her cheek. In a dry tone, she pours a mug of coffee. "I burned them for you. It will keep you awake. Sit down, you earned it."
Taking the mug quickly as steam rises, Elias teases, "Earned it? I thought I was just burning papers and chasing shadows."
Daniel enters, kicking snow from his boots. His voice is rough but warm as he says, "Burning those papers worked well. That ghost is quiet now. Took me three hunts to do it." He grabs his mug, scoops up some coffee, and sits at the table with a faint grin. "You're making us look slow, kid."
Elias smirks and sips his coffee slowly, the heat tingling his tongue. "Slow? You're the one whistling like a broken radio out there."
Mara laughs, a rare laugh, and sets a plate of cornbread on the table with a sly voice. "He's been off-key since '79. A wolf hunt threw his ears out. Don't let him sing you to sleep."
Elias leans back and breaks off a piece of bread. Crumbs fall as he speaks quietly, "The creek is quiet now. I still see him fading away whenever I blink."
Daniel nods as he chews, speaking slowly and steadily, "The first ghost that sticks is like that wolf I had; snarled until I decapitate it. The trick is to let it settle; don't chase it in your head."
Mara slides into a chair with her coffee, her voice warm yet firm. "Hunts don't leave everything clean, but you don't have to carry them with you. Grayson's ash is your ash now."
Elias tilts his head as the soft sound of the hearth pops. In a quiet tone he says, "It felt so big; bigger than I thought I could handle. I didn't think I would be strong enough."
Daniel grunts with a grin and replies in his rough voice, "You were made for big things; you have your mother's stubbornness. Just be careful not to trip over it like I did. I once spent a whole week salting the wrong tree."
Mara snorts with a dry tone, "He says it took a month. My Father told me Daniel salted that wrong tree until he had to drag him off it. Elias, stay focused so you don't do it wrong. It saves you the trouble later."
Elias laughs softly and grabs more cornbread, teasing, "Stay focused? Is that why you always smell like burnt coffee?"
Mara flicks a crumb at him and grins sharply, "Better than smelling like wet dog. Keep swinging that knife, and you'll cut your way straight to supper."
Daniel leans forward playfully, his tone rough. "Swing it right, kid. Next time, if you miss I'm taking your share."
They sit together for a while as the coffee cools and the hearth continues to warm the room. Laughter turns into soft chuckles.
Elias feels the truth of the day. His hands are steady now, and the words of his family sink in.
There is no rush and no heavy burden; just the farm, the warmth of the fire, and a morning that fits perfectly.