Eugene guided the carriage out of the fair, the wooden wheels creaking softly over the uneven road. The rhythmic sound of the wheels mingled with the faint calls of birds overhead and the sigh of the breeze through the trees. Inside the carriage, Malin sat with a grin that refused to leave his face. His voice, warm and bright, filled the space as he spoke eagerly about his childhood in a small, quiet village.
He spoke of the lake and the beautiful scenery that surrounded it, Rhaegal sat across from him, listening in silence. His golden eyes stayed fixed on Malin, watching him with a depth of attention that few ever received. The boy's innocence and honesty, the way he smiled without calculation, stirred something deep in Rhaegal — something almost forgotten.
