The sun was climbing higher now, casting longer shadows between the rows of tilled soil.
The scent of earth hung thick in the air, mingling with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of village life.
Billy wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, smearing a bit of dirt across his temple without noticing.
He stood for a moment, hands on his hips, catching his breath.
Behind them, footsteps crunched over dried grass and soft soil.
"Take a break, boys," came Mr. Dand's voice, roughened with age but still carrying that steady warmth.
Billy turned, catching the sight of him walking toward them with two clay cups and a flask tucked under his arm.
His broad smile widened as he handed one cup to Artur, then to Billy, the flask following with a nod. "Fresh from Tomas' place. Chilled just enough."
