Chapter 10: The Hollow

 The wagon creaked as it rolled along the dirt path, wheels crunching over frost-hardened soil. The early morning mist hung low, curling around the trees and drifting across the fields like breath from an unseen mouth. Aaron sat in the back beside the tools and cut lumber, his breath visible in the cold. The scent of wet earth and fresh pine filled the air. Jacob guided the reins steadily, his eyes on the path ahead. Beside him sat Levi and Samuel, their coats buttoned tight against the chill.

 No one spoke much—just the soft clatter of tools shifting and the occasional sniff or cough breaking the silence. Ms. King's homestead came into view just as the pale sun rose behind the trees. The old barn leaned wearily into the mist, its roof sagging in the middle like a tired back. The farmhouse beside it stood tall but weathered, its porch wrapped in peeling white paint. On the porch, a figure rocked slowly back and forth in an old wooden chair. As the wagon rolled to a stop, Jacob stood and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Good morning, Ms. King!" he called out.

 The rocking chair creaked to a halt. Ms. King raised a hand in greeting, her voice crackling across the yard. "Well, good morning to you, too, Jacob! Who've you got with you today?" The men walked up the porch steps. The wood groaned beneath their boots. Jacob gave a polite nod and gestured toward Aaron. "This here is Aaron." Ms. King looked him up and down with a sharp eye, then smiled—a slow, knowing smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Mm-hmm. You're the one from the city," she said. "Well… let's see what you're made of." Aaron gave a polite smile, unsure what else to offer.

 Jacob clapped his hands. "Alright, fellas. Ready to get started?" "Yeah," Levi said, rolling his shoulders. "Let's get to it." They grabbed the wood, nails, and tools from the wagon and made their way to the barn. The structure groaned faintly in the wind, as though it recognized the weight of their footsteps. They worked through the morning, measuring, sawing, and hammering. The rhythm of labor echoed through the fog like a heartbeat. Despite the chill in the air, sweat gathered under Aaron's collar. By midday, the mist still hadn't lifted, but the barn had started to look whole again.

 That's when Ms. King reappeared. She stepped off the porch holding a large glass jar, condensation trailing down its sides. The scent of fresh lemons and sugar filled the air as she walked toward them. "Figured you boys could use a break," she said. "Made it fresh this morning." Samuel grinned. "Now that's a blessing." She passed out cups, one by one. When she handed Aaron his, she held it just a moment longer. "You doing alright?" she asked. Aaron nodded slowly. "Yes, ma'am. Just… adjusting to the quiet." Ms. King smiled faintly, but her gaze stayed fixed on him. "Well," she said, "you listen close enough out here, and the woods'll tell you everything."

 Then she turned and walked back to her porch, the rocking chair creaking softly as she settled in again. Her words stuck in Aaron's mind. When the last nail was in place, the men stepped back from the barn, wiping sweat from their brows. "All right!" Levi shouted, raising his arms. They all smiled and gave a few halfhearted cheers, proud of their work, but Aaron's attention had drifted. The woods'll tell you everything. As the group made their way back toward the wagon, Aaron hesitated. "Wait," he said suddenly, and jogged back toward the porch.

 Ms. King was still there, rocking gently, her eyes on the barn. "Ms. King?" Aaron said, slowing to a stop. She looked over at him. "What did you mean earlier?" he asked. "About the woods telling me everything? Do you know something I don't?" She studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "When you live on this land long enough," she said, "it'll come to you. Whether you want it to or not." She stood from her chair with effort and walked toward the door. "Let me get something," she added. "It was my husband's. He kept a journal… before he went mad and shot himself."

 Aaron froze on the porch, watching as she disappeared inside the house. A few moments later, she returned with something wrapped in soft cloth. She handed it to him carefully, like passing off a lit candle. "Here you go," she said. "I have no use for it anymore. But I think it might help with whatever you're going through." Aaron looked down at the bundle. It was a weathered leather journal, its edges worn smooth with time. He held it in both hands, the cloth smelling faintly of cedar and dust. "Thank you," he said quietly. From down by the wagon, Jacob's voice echoed across the yard. "Aaron! You ready? We're waiting on you!"

 Aaron turned back and gave Ms. King one last nod. She had already returned to her chair, rocking slowly, her gaze now turned toward the barn, watching it like it might move when no one was looking. Aaron jogged back toward the wagon, the weight of the journal heavier than it looked, and heavier still in his chest.