It was home.
And if Black Hollow thought they could take it without a fight, they were about to learn exactly how wrong they were.
Norah returned to her room.
And this time, when she lay down, sleep came easier.
Tomorrow, Harlon would ride out.
Tomorrow, they'd start building something bigger than one broken family trying to survive alone.
Tomorrow, the real fight would begin.
But tonight, for just a few hours, they could rest.
And that would have to be enough.
Harlon left at first light, riding through snow that had started falling again during the night.
Norah watched him go from the kitchen window, coffee growing cold in her hands.
Thomas stood beside her, his jaw set in that way that meant he was trying not to show he was worried.
"He'll be fine," Norah said, though she wasn't sure who she was trying to convince.
"He's riding alone through territory where Black Hollow operates. Fine seems optimistic."
"Your father's survived worse."
"Has he?"
Thomas turned to look at her.
"Or has he just been lucky until now?"
Norah didn't have an answer for that.
The day crawled past with the weight of waiting.
Eli worked on reinforcing the barn doors.
Cade and Porter stacked firewood closer to the house in case they needed to barricade quickly.
Reeve disappeared into the root cellar and emerged with every tool that could be used as a weapon.
Rusty axes.
Broken scythes.
Anything with an edge.
"What are you doing?" Norah asked him.
Reeve laid everything out on the porch, his dark eyes meeting hers directly for the first time since she'd arrived.
"Getting ready."
"For what?"
"For when they come back."
His voice was flat.
Matter of fact.
The tone of someone who'd already accepted violence as inevitable.
He was seven years old.
Norah crouched beside him.
"You're seven. You shouldn't have to think about things like this."
"Ma died when I was five. Pa stopped being Pa when I was six. I've been thinking about bad things for a while now."
Reeve picked up a hatchet, testing its weight.
"Thinking doesn't make them happen. Not thinking doesn't make them stop."
"No. But you're still a child. You should be..."
"Should be what? Playing? Pretending everything's fine?"
Reeve's expression didn't change.
"That's what babies do. I'm not a baby."
He walked away before Norah could respond, carrying the hatchet like it weighed nothing.
Ru appeared at her elbow.
"Reeve's been like that since Ma died. He doesn't talk much, but he sees everything."
"Does he scare you?"
Ru thought about it.
"Sometimes. But mostly he just makes me sad."
"Why?"
"Because he's little like me, but he doesn't act little. It's like he forgot how."
Norah pulled Ru close.
"Some people forget how to be children when they have to grow up too fast. It's not fair, but it happens."