This is the fourth story in the Four Seasons series. It is best to read A Winter Interlude, The Breath of Spring, and Strawberry Moon in Summer before continuing with this one.
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Late afternoon, wind winnows through the trees.
Sesshoumaru turns to the forest, his eyes roving the foliage. It’s a melancholy beauty that greets him, summer’s death painting everything in a vivid warmth. The leaves shiver under the zephyrs, and he breathes in woodsmoke from the village as crisp air stings his cheeks.
“It’s going to frost tonight.”
Her voice is quiet, almost despondent, and he glimpses her from the corner of his eye, noting her armful of freshly harvested vegetables as her sleeve brushes his. “A shrewd prediction.”
She smiles slightly at that and turns toward the house.
He follows.