The six empty beds had become more important than Martin expected.
When he returned to Forest Hidden, the temporary Sairren housing already looked less like emergency shelter and more like somewhere people had started living. Only a few days had passed, but small personal touches had appeared everywhere.
A folded blanket hung over one railing to dry. Someone had dragged a wooden stool beside a window because the afternoon light reached it better there. Two Sairren children had turned a collection of smooth stones into some kind of game across the floor, arguing over rules that seemed to change whenever one of them started losing. Above one sleeping space, another child had tied a small bronze bell to a piece of string.
It connected to nothing. It was simply hers.
