The sun rose late.
Mist covered the trees like soft blankets.
Inside the house, Lyena sat at the table, legs swinging beneath her chair.
She was two.
She spoke now - not much, not loudly, but with words that danced when she used them.
"Why do spoons sleep in drawers?"
The woman blinked.
"Because... they like it dark?"
Lyena nodded, very seriously.
"That makes sense."
She talked about small things.
The color of berries. The taste of water. The way dust danced in light.
She didn't ask about the stars anymore.
Only about the cat that never came back, and why the sun blinked behind clouds.
They went outside together.
Lyena picked up a round stone and named it Button.
She gave it a voice. Made it sing. Laughed when it fell off a log.
The woman watched her and smiled.
Not because anything was funny - but because everything was calm.
Later, the bird came.
The woman gave it a letter.
Lyena watched it go, head tilted.
"Does the bird know where it's going?" she asked.
"Yes," the woman said softly. "It always does."
Lyena nodded, but didn't smile this time.
That night, they sat by the fire.
Lyena drew on the floor with a piece of charcoal.
A circle.
A star.
Then a crooked flower.
"Do flowers get lonely if no one picks them?" she asked.
The woman paused.
"Maybe. But maybe they're happy to stay."
"I'd stay too," Lyena said. "If I were a flower."
She crawled into bed without a fuss.
The woman tucked her in.
"Sleep well."
"Okay," Lyena whispered, already half asleep. "Tell Button goodnight too."
And the house went quiet again.
Only the fire still spoke - softly, like it didn't want to wake her.
End of Chapter 9 - Small Words, Quiet Days