The morning sun broke over the southern valley in a dazzling display of liquid gold, burning away the thin ribbons of river fog that drifted across the damp earth. Spring had arrived not with a sudden tempest, but with a quiet, persistent warmth that softened the soil and coaxed the tight buds of the apple orchard into emerald promises of life. Along the riverbank, the swift, swollen current churned clear and cold, channeled cleanly by the granite revetments we had constructed before the winter freeze.
Inside the main hall, the air was fresh, carrying the clean scents of turned earth, pine resin, and sweet clover drifting through the wide open windows. The central hearth, which had burned continuously through the long winter months, was now allowed to rest as a bed of cool, grey ashes, re
