The Legacy Of Brian and Brianna

The smell of roasted vegetables filled the small cottage, mingling with the faint scent of pine that drifted in through the open window. Sunlight streamed in, painting streaks of gold across the rough wooden floor. The house was humble — just two rooms, a tiny kitchen, and a stone fireplace that crackled gently, filling the space with warmth.

It wasn't much, but to Brianna and Brian, it was home.

Brianna, no older than six, sat cross-legged on the floor, her dark hair falling in loose strands around her face as she meticulously arranged small twigs and leaves into patterns. She bit her lip in concentration, carefully placing each twig as if she were solving a complex puzzle.

Brian, her older brother by three years, sprawled on his stomach beside her, carving a stick with a dull knife. His tongue poked out slightly as he worked, brows furrowed in deep focus. After several minutes of scraping and shaping, he held the stick aloft like a prized treasure.