Chapter 2 - The Ascent to the Rim
The journey toward the high country was a descent into a world of raw, untamed beauty. Silas was a man of few words, driving the massive shaggy horses with a focus that bordered on religious. His five children—twelve-year-old Elias, ten-year-old Clara, eight-year-old twins Jasper and Jace, and the toddler, little Mia—were cautious, observing Sadie with the wary eyes of forest creatures.
By the second day, the air had turned brittle and thin. Sadie, ever the worker, didn't wait for permission. She began to organize the chaotic pile of supplies in the back of the wagon. She mended the twins' torn trousers, stitched a lining into Clara’s thin coat, and hummed soft, forgotten lullabies to little Mia to calm her rattling cough.
Silas watched her in the rearview reflection of the wagon’s frame. He noticed the way she didn't complain about the biting cold or the lack of sleep. When they stopped at night, she was the first to gather dry kindling and the last to lie down, always checking that the children were covered.
"You don't have to earn your keep every minute, Sadie," Silas said one night as they crouched by a dying fire.
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"If I’m not useful, Silas, then I’m just a mouth to feed," she replied, her gaze fixed on the flames. "And I have spent far too long being told that’s all I am."
Silas didn't answer, but the look he gave her—a mix of confusion and something softer—told her that he was beginning to see the woman behind the widow’s weeds.
