The scent reaches her long before she sees the house—

  a warm, rich fragrance drifting through the garden, almost sweet enough to make the air shimmer.

  Harlyn steps into the yard, and there she finds her mother.

  Meryl kneels beneath the afternoon light, gently picking fruit from the branches. She only chooses the brightest ones—the plumpest, the smoothest, the prettiest—as if each one must pass a secret test before entering the basket.

  “Mom, I’m home.”

  Meryl gasps softly. She hasn’t finished preparing yet—Hale hasn’t arrived either.

  But she turns with a smile, accepting with a mother’s grace.

  “Harlyn, come help me pick fruit.” She waved Harlyn over.

  Harlyn settles beside her, through her quiet gaze reveals a mind still somewhere far away.

  Meryl noticed immediately.

  “Did you find any new friends today?" she asked gently.

  Harlyn lowers her head. No answer.

  Meryl smiled and stroked her daughter’s blue hair.

  “Then Mommy will go play with Harlyn tomorrow.”

  Harlyn’s head snaps up. Her eyes sparkle instantly.

  “Really?!”

  “Really.” Meryl patted her daughter’s cheek.

  Her sight then returned to the fruit, chuckling softly. “Pick the ones that catch your eyes the most!”

  Harlyn quickly listened and started looking.

  She studied the branches with exaggerated seriousness, like a scientist experimenting. After careful examination, she picked three fruits and holds them out in her tiny palms.

  One is big and beautifully round—perfect.

  Another is tiny, barely grown, stubbornly clinging to childhood.

  The last is oddly shaped… but that same odd shape is what made it looked like a little heart.

  “I’m done!”

  Meryl looked at the three fruits and immediately understands her daughter’s choices.

  “Then I’ll set these three aside and cook them specially!”

  A little later, the basket is now filled with all kinds of fruits and vegetable.

  Meryl stood, could hardly pick the basket up. Harlyn immediately jump in and helped her mom carrying the basket inside.

  So, this was the source of that wonderful smell—

  the pot on the stove is much larger than usual.

  Meryl stirs the soup carefully, scoops a spoonful, blows on it, then brings it down to Harlyn.

  “Here, taste.”

  Slurp—

  Mom added extra herbs and spices today… No wonder the whole garden smelled so good!

  So delicious!

  “Mom, why is the pot bigger today?”

  Meryl crouches to eye level, smiling with a secret warmth.

  “Because today is a special day of the year—”

  BAM!

  The door is kicked open.

  “WHERE IS MY BIRTHDAY GIRL!”

  Hale storms in triumphantly, a gigantic furry beast thrown over his shoulder. It resembles a wild boar—

  if wild boars were the size of grown men with fangs like carved daggers.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  He tosses the beast onto the floor with a heavy thud.

  Harlyn looked at the creature, intimidated.

  I’ve never seen an animal like this before… Even dead, it looks scary still…

  “I told you NOT to hunt that thing!” Meryl snaps, pointing her soup spoon at Hale’s face dramatically.

  “I caught it easily! These Killogs travel in packs—once you separate one, I can catch it with an arm behind my back!” Hale boasts.

  Harlyn, curious, slowly came over and touches the thick fur—

  A drop of blood fell down.

  But not from the creature, instead from her father—made her eyes quickly drifted to Hale’s wounds.

  Cuts… bruises… a torn sleeve…

  Dad…

  Her tiny face trembles. Tears start gathering.

  Hale freezes.

  Guilt crashes into him like a falling log.

  “…Meryl…” He whispered.

  Meryl turns, spoon still in her mouth. “Hmm?”

  Hale widens his eyes dramatically, jerking his chin toward Harlyn in silent pleading.

  Meryl sighs, putting down the spoon.

  She walks to Hale, then looks to her daughter.

  “Harlyn, see how your father stresses me every day?”

  Hale rubs the back of his head in shame as Meryl begins to chant:

  “Forgive the broken one, return what they have lost.

  Share a part of mine… patch their own mistake—”

  A soft green glow blooms from her palm. The light flows toward Hale’s wounds like threads being sewn back into place.

  Harlyn watches closely.

  I’ve seen this before… maybe in a dream… These word, this voice feels so familiar.

  When the spell fades, Meryl punches Hale in the shoulder with no hesitation.

  “Hmmp!” she huffs before walking back to the kitchen counter—chopping.

  Hale winces dramatically—rubbed his shoulder, turning to Harlyn.

  “Harlyn, hurry and learn healing magic so you can heal Daddy instead. Your mother barely heals me before she punches me hard enough to break my arm…”

  Suddenly Meryl’s chopping became louder and faster.

  Clunk clunk clunk clunk!

  Hale shifted the topic quickly.

  “Come on Harlyn, help me drag this thing into the garden!”

  “Mmmp!” Harlyn nodded to her father determinedly.

  Meryl placed the knife down, pinches the bridge of her nose.

  “Then why did you bother dragging it into the house in the first place?”

  “Because I wanted the whole village to see that Harlyn’s family hunted a whole Killogs for dinner!” Hale declared and laughed loudly.

  He started pulling the beast’s legs, while Harlyn grabs its tail with all her tiny strength-helping.

  Villagers walking past whisper behind hands.

  “What are they doing with a Killogs?”

  “It’s Hale, he’s so strong!”

  “That family is something else. They’re eating a whole Killogs tonight.”

  Smirking, Hale looked at Harlyn.

  “Harlyn, see how Papa did? Anyone else would have grabbed their legs and ran away from this thing. But I caught one just for you!” He tapped lightly into Harlyn’s forehead as he speak

  “Today you’ll get to taste the most delicious meat in the forest!” Hale pulled out a fleshing knife from his back pocket.

  Harlyn stands in awe as her father started skinning and butchering the Killogs.

  Wherever the knife moves, the beast splits cleanly—

  Hale’s hands precise, fast, full of experience.

  Before Harlyn even realized. The Killogs’ legs, head, and torso are already neatly separated.

  Hale wiped off the sweat on his forehead.

  “Phew…”

  He stood up and brushes of the dirt on his pant.

  Then starts heading toward the small woodshed tucked into the far corner of the garden. With a grunt, he gathered a bundle of firewood and a few thick logs, carrying them back with an exaggerated swagger—as if hero has just returned from battle.

  He tossed the logs in the middle of the garden and crouches beside his daughter.

  “Harlyn, watch closely,” he says, puffing out his chest. “Watch dad make fire!”

  Harlyn nodded.

  He picked up two rocks and swiped them together with all his might.

  Scrrrk! Scrrrk!

  Nothing…

  Not even the tiniest spark.

  Harlyn tilts her head at the father, confused.

  “What’s the problem dad…?”

  But Hale was also as wondering as she is.

  Still determined, he hands another pair of rocks to his daughter.

  “Harlyn, just do as I do.”

  She nods firmly, despite having a strong will to help her father… Instead of gliding, she smashed the two rocks together with all her might.

  Clack!

  Clack!

  Clack!

  Scrrrk!

  Scrrrk!

  The father and daughter poured their strength for a long while, before Hale noticed.

  He signalled Harlyn to stop, squints at the stones and sighs deeply.

  “Hah… they’re wet.”

  He looks up at the cloudy—blue sky with the defeated expression of a man betrayed by nature itself.

  Harlyn also laid flat down on the grass.

  “Why is making fire so hard…” She spoke in a drawn-out, monotonous voice.

  After a long breath, Hale pats Harlyn’s shoulder.

  “Sit here, sweetheart… Dad will handle it.”

  He drags himself toward the house like a warrior, braced for impact.

  A few seconds later—

  Meryl’s furious shout erupts from inside.

  “OH, you are so great aren’t you? Caught a whole Killogs, why don’t you make the fire yourself!”

  A moment later, they both walk back out.

  Meryl leads—arm crossed, not even glancing at her husband.

  Hale waddles behind her like a child, deflated.

  Meryl crouches beside the pile of wood. Hale stands there looking like a puppy.

  “…” Seeing the husband’s stupid, hopeful face seemed to fuel her determination.

  FWOOOM.

  A beautiful, bright red flame bursts to life in her palm, bright and beautiful.

  Harlyn’s eyes sparkled—completely captivated.

  “WH—OI!!”

  Hale hopped backward, brushing frantically at his pants as a small flame licked the fabric.

  “Hot—hot—HOT!!”

  Harlyn gasped and dashed over to help pat his leg.

  But while slapping at the fire, she looked up at him with an innocent smile. “Dad, you also made fire!”

  Hale froze mid-panic. “…Harlyn!” he said angrily.

  Behind them, Meryl burst into laughter, covering her mouth.

  The sun slowly dips, painting the sky orange.

  The charred wood still glows faintly red.

  Soon, the garden is filled with the smell of cooked dishes and warm laughter.