The sun had softened a little, casting a golden hue across the field as Billy and Artur made their way back toward the shed.
Billy carried the folded tarp under one arm, while Artur held the coiled ropes in his hand.
Their steps were quiet, unhurried. They didn't need to speak—something about the silence between them was comfortable now, almost protective.
As they reached the old wagon, Billy dropped the tarp with a light thud and stretched his arms overhead.
Artur gave him a side glance, lips tugging faintly. "You're getting too used to this."
Billy tilted his head, grinning. "What, hard labor under the sun?"
Artur shrugged. "The rhythm of it. You don't complain anymore."
Billy squatted to unfold the tarp, smoothing it over the wagon base. "Maybe I figured out it's not so bad when someone's doing it with you."
Artur said nothing at first, but he stepped closer to help without a word.
