A stranger's Arrival

The sun was setting, casting an amber glow across the sky, making the fields around Jasmine's farmhouse shimmer like liquid gold. She stood on the porch, gazing at the horizon as the world around her began to settle into the calm of the evening. The wind blew softly, carrying the familiar scent of earth and crops, a constant reminder of the life she and her father had built on this land. Everything felt peaceful, yet she couldn't shake the unease that had been growing within her for days. It was as if the wind carried a warning, a whisper of something approaching, though she had no idea what.

Jasmine was about to turn and head back inside when she noticed movement down the road. A figure was walking toward the house, slow but steady, a silhouette against the fading light. She squinted, trying to make out the details, but the figure remained too far away. It wasn't often that anyone came out this far. Their farm was isolated, tucked away from the villages and towns. Even travelers rarely ventured down these roads anymore. The threat of war had everyone on edge, and strangers were rarely welcomed with open arms.

Her father, Nathan, stepped out from the barn, wiping his hands on a rag. His weathered face, lined with years of hard work, showed no sign of surprise when he spotted the approaching figure. But Jasmine could sense his wariness.

"Who's that?" he asked, his voice low but firm.

"I don't know," Jasmine replied, her eyes never leaving the figure. "I haven't seen anyone out here for weeks."

Nathan nodded, his hand resting on the axe that lay beside the porch steps. As the figure drew closer, it became clear that it was a man, his clothes dusty and torn, his steps heavy with exhaustion. He stopped several paces from the house, lifting a hand in a gesture of peace.

"I don't mean any harm," the man called out, his voice rough and strained, as if he hadn't spoken in days. "I'm just looking for a place to rest. Just for the night."

Nathan's eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward. "We don't usually take in strangers," he said, his tone cautious. "Especially not these days. Who are you, and where are you headed?"

The man lowered his hand and looked down at the ground for a moment before responding. "My name's Caden," he said. "I've been traveling for days. I'm a deserter… from the king's army. I've been on the run for longer than I can remember. I just need shelter. Just for one night."

Jasmine's heart skipped a beat. A deserter. She had heard stories about soldiers abandoning the war, fleeing the brutality and chaos, but she'd never expected to meet one. She glanced at her father, seeing the tension in his posture. Deserters were hunted, and anyone who harbored them could face severe punishment. Offering help was dangerous, but leaving a man out to die felt even worse.

Caden stood there, his eyes weary but pleading. He looked like he hadn't eaten in days, his clothes torn and dirty, his face shadowed by exhaustion and fear. There was something in his eyes, something that made Jasmine's chest tighten. This wasn't just any man. He was running from something more than war.

Nathan's grip tightened on the axe, but he didn't move to raise it. After what felt like an eternity, he sighed. "Come inside," he said, his voice gruff. "You can rest here tonight. But at first light, you leave. Understand?"

Caden nodded, his relief evident even in his weary state. "Thank you," he said quietly, his voice filled with gratitude.

As Nathan led Caden inside, Jasmine lingered on the porch, her mind racing. There was something unsettling about this stranger, something she couldn't quite place. His eyes had spoken of a story far darker than the one he'd told. What was he really running from? And why had he ended up here, at their isolated farm, far from the roads where soldiers often hunted deserters?

Inside, Caden sank into a chair at the table, his body visibly relaxing for the first time in what seemed like days. Jasmine moved to pour him a glass of water, watching him carefully as he drank it down in one gulp. Up close, she could see the exhaustion etched into his features—dark circles under his eyes, a few fresh cuts and bruises lining his arms, and a thin layer of dust covering his skin. He looked like he had been running for more than just a few days.

"Are you hurt?" she asked softly.

Caden shook his head. "No. Just tired," he replied, his voice hoarse.

Nathan returned with some bread and dried meat, placing it on the table. "Eat," he said shortly, before grabbing a stool and sitting across from Caden. "You said you deserted the king's army. Where were you stationed?"

Caden hesitated, glancing between Jasmine and her father. "Near the southern border," he answered. "But I've been running north since I escaped. The war… it's getting worse. They're conscripting more men, forcing families to send their sons. I couldn't…" His voice trailed off, and he lowered his gaze to the table.

Jasmine felt a pang of sympathy. She had heard the rumors of how brutal the war had become, of the soldiers being thrown into battle with little more than the clothes on their backs. But hearing it from someone who had lived it made it feel real in a way she hadn't expected.

Nathan grunted. "War doesn't spare anyone. Not men, not families."

Caden nodded but didn't respond, focusing instead on the food in front of him.

As the silence stretched, Jasmine stood and quietly excused herself, stepping back outside to the porch. The sky had darkened completely now, the first stars blinking into view. The unease she'd felt earlier had only grown since Caden's arrival. She didn't know what it was about him—whether it was his desperation, his haunted eyes, or the fact that he had nowhere left to turn—but something about his presence made her feel as if her life was about to change in ways she couldn't yet understand.

A stranger had arrived at their doorstep, and with him, the winds of change had begun to stir.