"Why us?" Aiden asked.
Gavin gave him a long look. "Well, I'll tell you, Bard. The day Nara packed up her ponycart, she took me aside and told me she'd had a dream the night before about the right people for this land. She told me she dreamed she walked her land just like she always did, but she heard music in the air around the fruit trees and stories bloomed among her flowers. When I heard you were coming into the village, it just seemed . . . It was like she knew you were coming. So, what do you think, Bard?"
His head was spinning, and he wasn't sure what he thought. But now that Gavin had finally stopped talking, he realized the man was fidgety, nervous—and he understood why. Gavin wanted them to stay. Whether it was because of Nara's dream or for some other reason, he and Lyrra were wanted here, welcome here.
He looked around again at the cottage, at the small barn that would be a snug shelter for the horses, at the flower and vegetable gardens. He could see himself sitting under the fruit trees with his harp, working on a song. He could picture Lyrra sitting on that bench near the flowers, working on a story or just sitting peacefully and letting her gift flow into the world. He could see them in the tavern on winter evenings, entertaining friends and neighbors. He could see it—and the picture warmed his heart.
"So, what do you think?" Gavin asked again.
Feeling Lyrra's hand slip into his, Aiden smiled. "I think we've come home."