The quiet morning outside the orphanage had grown warmer by the time Brother Vick stepped out of the front doors. Ifan noticed immediately. His head lifted from where he leaned against the wagon wheel, and his entire face brightened. He raised his arm high and waved with enthusiasm.

  “Brother Vick!”

  The older man paused halfway down the steps. The boy’s energy struck him the same way it did every morning. Ifan looked like the happiest person in Woodstock. Vick adjusted the strap on his shoulder and walked toward the wagon.

  “You’ve been waiting long?” he asked.

  Ifan shook his head quickly.

  “Nope!”

  He hopped up onto the wagon bench in one smooth motion and turned toward the older man with excitement written all over his face. Vick climbed up beside him. Before he could even reach for the reins, Ifan leaned closer with hopeful eyes.

  “Can I steer today?”

  Vick didn’t even look at him.

  “No.”

  Ifan blinked.

  “Come on!”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  Vick finally turned his head and gave him a firm look. “The last time I let you steer, our horse fell in love with a brick wall.”

  Ifan groaned loudly and retort defensively.

  “That wasn’t my fault!”

  Vick continued.

  “And we spent half a day trying to convince that horse to move.”

  “It was bad luck!” Ifan insisted. “That was one time!”

  “Exactly my point. That is one time too many.”

  Ifan leaned forward with a pleading smile. “Please?”

  Vick grabbed the reins.

  “One time... is already too many.”

  Ifan puffed out his cheeks in a dramatic pout.

  “That’s unfair.”

  The older man clicked his tongue softly and gave the reins a light tug. The horse began moving down the dirt road. Ifan slumped against the bench with exaggerated disappointment.

  A few seconds passed. Then he slowly peeked at Vick.

  “…You’re really not gonna let me try?”

  “No.”

  Ifan sighed and surrendered. “Fine.”

  The wagon rolled steadily along the road leading away from Woodstock. The small settlement slowly disappeared behind them as open countryside stretched out ahead. Zandria’s farmland welcomed the morning sun. Golden fields spread across the land, swaying gently under the breeze. Low hills rose in the distance, dotted with clusters of trees and small farmhouses. Birds glided across the sky while insects hummed quietly in the tall grass. Ifan leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the warm sunlight touch his face.

  “This is nice,” he said softly.

  Vick glanced sideways at him. The boy looked completely at peace.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “You really enjoy this place,” Vick said.

  Ifan opened one eye.

  “Of course.” He stretched his arms across the back of the wagon bench. “I get to see this view every day.” His voice carried quiet appreciation.

  “I think I’m the luckiest boy in the world.”

  Vick looked back toward the road. Woodstock sat far from the larger cities of Zandria. It was only a small outpost settlement near the countryside. Most people would consider it unremarkable. Ifan never saw it that way.

  After a few moments of silence, Vick spoke again. “Happy birthday, Ifan.”

  The boy turned toward him with a smile. “Thanks.”

  “If I remember correctly,” Vick continued, “today is the day you arrived at the orphanage.”

  Ifan nodded easily.

  “Yep. Today’s the day.”

  Vick kept his eyes on the road.

  “That must have been difficult.”

  Ifan tilted his head slightly. “How so?”

  “You were 6,” Vick said carefully. “Being left somewhere like that… it must have hurt.”

  The boy grew quiet. For a moment the wagon rolled forward with only the sound of the wheels against the dirt road. Ifan rested his elbows on his knees and looked out across the fields.

  “I think my mother had a reason,” he said.

  His voice carried no bitterness. “I remember her.”

  Vick glanced at him.

  “She used to hug me when I cried.”

  Ifan’s eyes softened with the memory.

  “She would sit with me at night and listen when I talked about my day.”

  A faint smile returned to his face. “She liked playing with my hair.”

  The boy leaned back again. “So I think she had a reason.”

  Vick said nothing.

  “If she left me somewhere,” Ifan continued quietly, “then it must have been the safest place she could find.”

  He looked up at the bright sky.

  “There are people out there who have it much worse than I do.”

  His smile returned.

  “I’m alive. I have a home. I get to help people.” He shrugged lightly. “That’s pretty lucky.”

  Vick tightened his grip on the reins. He studied the boy for a moment; Ifan’s expression held no anger, only simple honesty. The older man looked forward again.

  He’s still young, Vick thought. He sees the world with innocent eyes.

  Surely there had to be anger somewhere? Surely a child abandoned at six would carry some resentment? But looking at Ifan now, Vick could not find it. The thought left a quiet weight in his chest. He shook his head slightly and pushed the thought aside. Movement in the sky caught Ifan’s attention.

  “Hey!”

  He leaned forward and pointed upward.

  “Look!”

  Two birds soared high above the fields.

  They circled each other through the air, gliding left and right before diving and climbing again. Their wings caught the sunlight as they twisted through the sky in a graceful pattern. Ifan watched with complete fascination.

  “It looks like they’re dancing,” he said.

  Vick glanced up briefly. The birds spiraled upward before drifting away toward the horizon. Ifan followed them with his eyes until they disappeared. His face held the same quiet wonder he carried every day. The wagon continued along the road.

  Not long after, the first buildings of the neighboring town appeared. Wooden fences lined the road leading into the settlement. Modest houses stood close together near the town center, and the sound of merchants and travelers filled the air. A wooden sign near the entrance read:

  Dawnstead

  Vick guided the wagon toward the supply depot near the edge of town. He pulled the reins and brought the horse to a stop beside the loading platform.

  “Alright,” he said as he climbed down from the wagon.

  Ifan jumped down right after him. Several workers moved around the depot carrying crates and bundles of supplies. The smell of grain, wood, and fresh produce filled the air. Vick walked toward a small desk where one of the depot clerks waited.

  “Morning,” Vick said.

  The clerk nodded and slid a ledger across the table. Vick signed the paperwork while the man reviewed the order list. Meanwhile, Ifan waited near the wagon as his eyes scanned the stacks of supplies nearby; sacks of grain, crates of dried fruit, bundles of cloth. Barrels of cooking oil. Was this theirs? He sure hopes so.

  When Vick returned, he handed the list to Ifan. “Go ahead,” the older man said.

  Ifan’s face lit up. These supplies... are all really for the Valefort Orphanage?

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  The boy grabbed the first sack immediately.

  “Woah! This is a lot!” he said happily.

  The workers nearby chuckled as they watched him. Ifan carried each crate and bundle to the wagon with quick enthusiasm. Sweat formed on his brow, but his energy never faded.

  “This is great!” he said while lifting another crate. “The kids are gonna be so happy tonight.”

  He carefully stacked the supplies into the wagon. A grin spread across his face as he imagined the orphanage dinner later.

  “And Anisette’s gonna freak out when she sees all this.”

  Vick leaned against the wagon while watching the boy work. Ifan looked genuinely excited. Not for himself but for everyone else. The older man crossed his arms and let out a quiet breath.

  “Yeah,” he murmured. “They probably will.”

  The wagon slowly filled with supplies under the warm Zandria sun, and the day remained peaceful. So far...

  @fittrye.z.n