He nodded, like I had said something clever. “That’s true.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I followed you through the oaks. Didn’t plan to, but... here I am.”
The words made my heart lurch. The oaks. The circle. The way the air had bent, and the way he had looked at me as I ran.
“Why?” I said, barely a whisper. “Why did you follow?”
He stared at the fire, eyes gone distant. “I was looking for something. For someone. When I saw you, I thought—” He stopped, mouth twisting, as if the rest of the sentence was too stupid to say aloud. “Doesn’t matter. Just felt like you needed help.”
I almost laughed. Almost. “You could have killed me,” I said, more bitter than I meant.
He shook his head. “Not my style.” Then, softer, “I’ve been the hunted, too.”
We sat in silence, the fire burning lower, the wind outside gnawing at the edges of the lodge. My eyes kept drifting back to the tattoos. The wolf’s head on his forearm seemed to glow, the eyes catching every shift of light, the teeth as white as bone.
“Does it mean something?” I asked, pointing to the ink.
He looked down at his own arm, as if surprised to see it there. “It’s a long story. But yeah. It means a lot.” He flexed his hand, and the jaw of the wolf opened wider, as if ready to devour the world.
I swallowed, shivering, though I was not cold.
“Will you stay?” I asked, and the question felt bigger than the room.
He met my gaze, and for the first time, there was no shadow between us. “If you want me to,” he said.
I nodded, and the world tilted just enough to let in a sliver of hope.
***
When I woke next, he was still there, sitting with his back to the door, his eyes fixed on the line of blue light that crept along the horizon. The fire had burned down to coals, but the room was warm, the air thick with the smells of woodsmoke, leather, and the odd, sharp tang of his medicine.
My ankle throbbed, but it was a clean pain, the kind that meant healing.
I rolled onto my side, careful not to make a sound. I watched him for a long time, memorizing the angle of his jaw, the way the shadows played across his face, the small scar at his eyebrow. When he finally spoke, it startled me, though his voice was gentle.
“You can stop pretending to sleep,” he said, not turning around.
I considered denying it, but the smile in his voice made it impossible.
“I was watching,” I said.
“I know.”
I hesitated, then, “Thank you.”
He nodded, just once, as if the matter was settled.
I sat up, tested my weight, and found that I could stand, if barely. He watched, ready to catch me, but did not move to help unless I faltered. I liked that. It made me feel less helpless.
I limped to the window, looked out over the world I no longer recognized. The snow had stopped, and the trees glittered, every branch rimed in crystal. In the far distance, smoke curled from a cottage I did not know. The sky was a hard, endless blue.
I leaned against the cold stone, feeling the room spin around me. He came to stand beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat of him through the jacket.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, voice shaking.
“Yeah,” he said. “It is.” He looked into my eyes, into my soul. “But not as beautiful as you.”
I didn’t know what to say. No one had ever said that to me before. We stood there a long time, neither of us speaking. The wolf’s head on his arm caught the light, and for a second, I was sure I saw it move, just a twitch, just enough to make me question everything.
But when I looked up at him, he was just a man, tired and haunted, and for the first time, I did not feel alone.
