Back home, Jack set Zia down and knelt beside her. “Do you want me to clean your dad’s sword? Make it as good as new?”

  Zia nodded.

  “Is it all right to take the ribbon off to clean it?” he asked with a soft voice. He’d realised it must hold some special significance.

  Zia shook her head, her eyes widening in alarm.

  Anna stepped in, brushing Zia’s hair out of her wet eyes. “We’ll clean the ribbon together, like we did with your own,” she promised. “Then we can tie it back on afterwards.”

  Zia swallowed hard and nodded. She watched Jack as he worked the ribbon loose from the hilt. Her hands clenched tight every time he pulled at a stubborn knot, as if fearing it might tear, losing this tiny piece of her father.

  “There we go,” Jack said at last, holding the ribbon out to Zia.

  Zia snatched it and pressed it to her chest, burying her nose in its soft, frayed threads. It still carried faint traces of her parents’ love, or perhaps that was only in her heart.

  “I’m going to get all the rust off your dad’s blade,” Jack said. “Do you want to watch?”

  Zia nodded, still cradling the ribbon like a treasure.

  Jack went to his room and collected the whetstone he’d looted from the rat-faced rogue. He returned to the kitchen and sank down in a quiet corner, out of Anna’s way. Time passed as he worked, cleaning, sharpening, and oiling the steel until it shone in the light. He honed the edge and polished every inch of the sword.

  All the while, Zia was perched on a low stool watching. Every few minutes, Anna glanced across, frowning before returning to her cooking.

  “Do you want to clean the scabbard?” Jack asked.

  Zia hesitated before nodding.

  Jack passed the huge sheath to the little girl and instructed her on how to clean it while he continued to care for the blade. When the blade was done, they worked together on the sheath. She sat in his lap until the scabbard was sparkling clean. All the while, Jack explained how and why things were cleaned the way they were.

  Jack stood, pulling Zia up with him. “There you go. All done.” He smiled and sheathed the cleaned and oiled sword before passing it to Zia.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Zia smiled and wrapped both arms around the huge weapon. It was over half her size, awkward and cumbersome; she pressed her face to the scabbard nonetheless, brushing a quiet kiss across its surface. “Th-thank you, Jack.”

  He smiled, brushing a hand down her hair. “No problem, I enjoyed it. Maybe when you’re older, you can learn to use the sword.”

  Zia nodded, glancing down at the still-dirty ribbon in her hands, then towards her new mom.

  “I guess that’s my cue,” Anna said with a smile. “Jack, put the sword in your room until we’re ready for it.”

  Zia’s face fell, terror and heartbreak rising in her eyes as if the blade were about to be taken from her forever. Her tiny fingers tightened around the scabbard.

  Jack sank down to her level. “It’ll be in my room whenever you want to see it,” he promised. “I’ll keep it clean and oiled until you’re old enough to do it yourself. You can help me with the scabbard. Okay?”

  She nodded, and after a long moment, relinquished the sword. Jack carried it to his room while Anna and Zia set about cleaning the blue ribbon. Together, mother and daughter dipped it in warm water, worked the grit and dried blood from its threads, and laid it on the warm stove to dry.

  A little while later, the ribbon was dry. Jack retrieved the weapon, and Anna and Zia tied it back onto the hilt of the sword with a slow, loving precision it deserved.

  “That’s right,” Anna said. “Hold your finger there while I… there done.” She gave Zia a smile. “This time you can tighten the knot, and I’ll hold the loop in place.”

  Zia smiled. She tied another loop and knot while talking her way through the process. “T-tie a loop around the sword,” she looked up to Anna, who nodded. “Pull it tight.” She waited while Anna put her finger on the single knot. “Loop it ar…” It went wrong, and she looked distressed.

  Anna kept her finger on the single knot, holding it in place. “It’s alright. We can take a hundred tries until we get it right.”

  With determination, Zia nodded and tried again. “Loop it around the other loop and…” she slid one loop under the other, “…and pull tight.” A tear ran down her cheek.

  “Yeah,” Anna cheered as the loop was tightened. She gave it a few adjustments to secure the knot and to make it look pretty. “Perfect. Well done, sweetie.”

  The blue fabric was faded and frayed now, a perfect match for the ribbon that still adorned Zia’s hair. The little girl smiled as she ran a finger down its length. She looked up to her new mother. “Thank you.”

  “When you’re ready to talk about your mommy and daddy,” Anna said, brushing Zia’s hair from her eyes, “I’m here for you.”

  Zia didn’t speak. She buried her face in Anna’s shoulder and tightened her arms around her new mom, resting her head where she felt safest. And in that quiet moment, surrounded by warmth and belonging, some small part of her broken heart felt like it might one day be whole again.

  ***

  Jack and Zia spent some time drawing at the dining table while their mom prepared dinner. Jack sketched the twisted limbs of the apple tree outside. Zia drew a big-eared donkey with a cape and a crown.

  “What’s that?” Jack asked.

  “It’s my donkey, Sir Donkey Don?” Zia answered. “He’s Sir King Donkey Don now,” she added. “He rules the Garden of Carrots.”

  “Long may he reign over his pea-ple.” Jack chuckled.

  Zia didn’t get it and continued to colour.

  They coloured for an hour in peaceful silence, the gentle ticking of the kitchen clock and the bubbling of the stew pot filling the room.