By the time they finished organizing the cart, the sky had begun its slow shift toward evening.
Marron dusted her hands off and looked at Balen. "So," she said, "where exactly are we staying?"
He pointed down the main road, toward the quieter end of town. "Follow that straight until you see the largest apple tree you've ever laid eyes on. Can't miss it. Inn's right beside it."
He paused, then added with a grin, "Nowhere better than Madam Lou's. Be well on your way!"
"You're not walking us there?" Marron asked.
He shook his head. "If I step inside, she'll rope me into repairing something or taste-testing stew until midnight."
"That sounds terrible."
"It is when you're on mill duty at dawn."
He stepped back, raising a hand. "Go. Get settled. I'll see you at dinner tomorrow."
Marron nodded. "Thank you. For today."
"Anytime," he said again, and this time there was no humor in it—just simple certainty.
They parted ways.
The apple tree was impossible to miss.
