The knock came just after dinner, soft enough that I almost missed it. Richard was still in the kitchen with his sleeves pushed up, humming quietly as he scrubbed a pan. Upstairs, the boys raced through the hallway, one narrating some over-the-top sword battle while the other responded with groaning dramatics. I dried my hands and walked to the front door, expecting someone from the council dropping off late documents or a neighbor with something from the garden exchange.
When I opened the door, Jenny was standing on the porch.
She looked completely worn out. Her hair was tied back in a loose knot that had mostly fallen apart, and her coat hung oddly from her shoulders, the sleeves bunched at her elbows like she'd given up trying to adjust them. Her eyes were rimmed in red, her face pale
