The Listening Season

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Luthen hesitated. "So... we don’t archive it?"
"No," she replied. "We tend it. We check the soil. We keep the space warm. And if it chooses to grow in another's mouth later—so be it."
Around the circle, heads nodded slowly. It was not a dismissal. It was a blessing.
Later that afternoon, Luthen found the elder near the garden steps, gently sweeping frost from the stones.
"May I ask something more?" he said.
She smiled. "You’ve already begun."
He hesitated. "What if a story feels unfinished? What if it ends with a silence you don’t understand?"-----
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