Noon had been kind to Eastborne as sunlight laid itself warmly across the old stones, catching upon the towers and broken places alike until even the worn edges seemed touched by gold. The air carried the cool breath of the sea from the north, soft enough to stir through the grass and lift the loose strands of Vidalia’s pale coat where she stood near the crossing. There had been much to do still, of course. There was always much to do. Eastborne was not a place that mended itself in a day, nor a week, nor perhaps even a season. It required patient paws, careful eyes, and a heart stubborn enough to love what had been left behind.
Vidalia had found, despite everything, that she was well suited to loving broken things.
She had been near the entrance that day, tending to the small signs of life she had encouraged to take root there. Freshly turned soil rested near the base of the old gate, where hardy flowers had been planted in hope that they might one day soften the severity of stone. It was a small thing, perhaps. A foolish thing, even. But she had learned long ago that beauty did not need permission to survive. Sometimes it only needed someone willing to kneel in the dirt and believe in it to help it along.
Raelan was somewhere nearby, near enough that the knowledge of him rested quietly at the back of her mind, though not near enough for her to see him. His presence was a comfort all the same, steady as a hand she did not need to reach for to know it was there.
A song reached her before the traveler did.
Her ears lifted first, then her head, pale gaze drifting toward the open crossing where the tune came bright upon the warm air. It was cheerful, almost startlingly so against the quiet dignity of the place. Vidalia stilled with one paw lightly dusted in soil, listening as the melody wove itself through the afternoon like a ribbon caught upon the wind. For a moment, she only listened. Then a soft, faintly amused smile found its way to her mouth.
Well, she thought,
that was certainly a lovelier arrival than most.
She stepped away from the little garden then, shaking loose some of the earth from her paw with as much grace as one could manage after having been half-buried in work. The sight of a stranger no longer set her heart into such immediate alarm as it once might have, though old instincts still lingered within her being. Her gaze was observant and careful, but not unkind.
Good day to you,
she called, her voice carrying lightly across the crossing.
You come to Eastborne with a song upon your tongue. I would hope that means your business is friendly.
The smile remained, softened by courtesy and curiosity alike. She held herself with practiced grace, though there was something warmer beneath it now.
You will have to forgive the state of things,
Vidalia added after a moment, glancing briefly toward the towers with something fond and aching tucked behind her expression.
We are still teaching the old girl how to look alive again.
