"Digital copies?"
"Cloud backup. Encrypted. Password's in my head."
"Good."
"They don't know that."
"They know enough to send a man with a rifle after you in the dark."
Something in my chest squeezes. I press a hand flat against my ribs. His eyes catch the movement.
"Pain?"
"Reality."
He nods once. Doesn't offer reassurance. I'm grateful. If he'd told me everything was going to be fine I wouldn't have believed him, and we'd have started on the wrong foot.
He stands. He's taller than I thought. Lean in a way that reads as endurance, not vanity. He moves to the woodstove and ladles soup out of a pot into a mug, brings it to me with a spoon.
"Eat. You need calories."
I take the mug. Our fingers brush. His are warm. Callused along the pads. Mine aren't exactly soft either and I'm suddenly self-conscious of the dirt still under my nails from the climb, the blood I can feel flaking at my hairline.
"I probably look like hell."
He looks at me. Pauses long enough to make my stomach twist.
"You look alive. That's the part I care about."
He turns away before I can figure out what to do with that.
I eat. It's a thick broth with shredded meat and something earthy. Venison, maybe. It's the best thing I've tasted in a week. The dog lifts his head and thumps his tail once against the floor.
"What's his name?"
"Ghost."
"Retired?"
"Mostly. Still works scent when I ask him to. Doesn't like to sit out when I've got something going."
"He was with you this morning."
"He's the reason I knew you weren't alone out there."
I set the mug down on my lap and look at him across the room where he's pulling something out of a cabinet. A small kit. Antiseptic. Fresh gauze.
"Come sit by me."
He does. Pulls the chair closer and perches on the edge of it. He unwraps the tape at my temple, eases the old gauze off. His hand cups the back of my skull to steady me, and his thumb rests light against my jaw to hold me still.
He cleans the wound with something that stings. I don't flinch. His eyes flick to mine when I don't.
"Tough."
"Stubborn."
"That too."
