Joyous Hunting

The kitchen has gone soft around the edges, warm with stove heat and the last traces of supper. Hunter and Nora sit near the iron range, quiet enough to hear Joy’s blocks tap and slide across the floorboards.

Joy builds a tower, knocks it over, then frowns at the pieces like they have personally offended her. Hunter watches from his chair, shoulders easing little by little as the house settles around them.

Joy hears the comment and looks up, then proudly stacks two more pieces on top of the mess. Nora’s mouth curves as she leans back, hands folded loosely in her lap.

The tower wobbles but holds. Hunter lets out a quiet breath and reaches for the mug beside him, while Nora’s gaze moves from Joy to him with gentle, steady warmth.

Hunter rises quietly and draws the curtains shut, cutting the kitchen off from the dark glass. The room feels more tucked in, less exposed, as the stove hums on.

He lowers himself to the floor beside Joy, careful not to jostle her blocks. One hand settles at the base of the tower while the other hovers, ready to catch a wobble.

Joy shifts one block into Hunter’s waiting hand, then another, studying the stack with fierce little concentration. The tower steadies under their shared touch.

Nora watches them from the stool, softer now, while the bundle of copied pages rests forgotten beside her. Hunter’s thumb brushes a nick in the floorboard, and the quiet settles deeper. The curtain rod gives a faint creak as it finishes its work, and the house feels kept in.