I am not a scholar and I don't believe in fate
Watching her work, mixing the colors and explaining where everything came from, was wondrous. She was so knowledgeable and she moved with practiced ease. Noah settled to watching and listening, his paint mixing skills not up to par enough. She took the paints from him and he listened to her without interruption, leaning against the table before the roaring hearth. He was impressed that she had been able to tear herself away from the painting enough to keep it well stoked.
He wondered if this was how it was for other people when he took them hunting with him.
He didn't move until she said she needed help with the couch. "Oh, yeah, definitely." He stood and walked over to the couch. The wooden frame was heavier than it looked, and Noah was able to pull it out from the wall all on his own. It was obvious that the couch had not been moved in eons with the way the dust bunnies ran for their lives.
NOAH
