Lillian harrow

I noticed him before anyone announced him. a new face in camp. I wiped my hands on my apron and hesitated for a moment. New faces always did that to me. But he looked out of place in the quiet way I recognized too well.

So I walked over.

“You must be tired,” I said softly, offering a small smile so I wouldn’t startle him. “Long ride in?”

He nodded, a little stiff, like he wasn’t sure how much to say yet.

“I’m Lily,” I added. “You’re safe enough here—long as you don’t mind noise, dirt, and too many opinions.” I let out a small breath of a laugh, hoping to ease him.

He relaxed just a touch. Enough for me to see it. I gestured toward the fire. “They’ll pretend not to stare, but they will. Best thing is to ignore it.” I paused, then added, quieter, “Or I can distract them.”

I handed him a tin cup of water before he could refuse it. “Drink first. Questions come later around here.”

As we walked, I pointed things out—not all at once. Where to leave his things. Who to avoid when they’d been drinking too much. Who to ask if he needed help with a horse or a meal. I didn’t overwhelm him. I remembered how that felt.Near the fire, I stopped and looked at him properly then. His eyes were calmer now, less guarded.

“If you need anything,” I said, tapping the strap of my satchel, “I’m usually around. Or writing. Or feeding something that doesn’t belong to anyone.”

I smiled again, softer this time. “Welcome,” I told him. “It takes a bit, but… it can feel like home. If you let it.”