The morning sun was gentle, slipping through the clouds like a warm whisper. The soft earth pressed beneath their boots as Billy and Artur made their way back toward the shed. The familiar hum of village life drifted in from the distance—children laughing, a wheelbarrow creaking, birds weaving their morning melodies.
Billy clutched the notebook close, flipping it open again as they walked.
"Okay," he said, scanning the page, "first up: tools. Your dad mentioned checking the ones left behind the east side of the shed."
Artur nodded. "I haven't looked at those since last week."
"Then today's the day," Billy grinned, nudging him. "Lead the way, boss."
Artur rolled his eyes but smiled, turning the corner of the shed. Behind it, a few old tool racks leaned against the wall, some rusted, others missing parts.
Billy knelt beside them, running his fingers along the wooden handles. "They've seen better days…"
