The fire had burned low by the time Liora stirred.
She blinked against the dim gray light spilling through the cabin's one window, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. The bench where Aric had sat the night before was empty. For a moment, panic clawed at her chest — until she heard the crunch of boots outside.
The door creaked open, and he stepped in, a thin layer of frost clinging to his dark coat. He carried a small bundle wrapped in cloth.
"You were gone," she said, trying to make it sound like an observation, not an accusation.
"I went hunting." He unwrapped the bundle — two rabbits, already cleaned. "You were still asleep."
She sat up, rubbing her shoulder. "You could have told me."
"I could have," he said, kneeling by the hearth to stoke the fire back to life. "But you looked like you needed the rest."
The silence that followed was almost comfortable, save for the quiet, constant awareness of the thread between them. Liora busied herself with her coat, checking the tear in the fabric where the wolf's claws had struck.
"You're still bleeding," he said without looking up.
"It's fine."
"Stubborn," he murmured. "Always stubborn."
They worked in silence for a while — he over the fire, she mending her coat as best she could. Finally, she asked the question she'd been holding back.
"Your pack," she said. "What happens if they find me?"
He glanced up, his silver eyes unreadable. "They won't. Not if I keep it that way."
Her hands stilled. "So they don't know?"
"No." His voice was quiet, deliberate. "And if they did…" He hesitated, then shook his head. "There's no mercy for the silver-marked. They wouldn't ask questions."
She swallowed. "Even if the person you're hunting is bound to you?"
"That would only make it worse."
The bluntness of it was a cold slap. She forced her eyes back to her coat, stitching the leather with fingers that felt suddenly clumsy. "So why protect me?"
He didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was lower. "I'm not protecting you. I'm protecting us. If they kill you, I go with you. I'm not ready for that."
It wasn't the answer she'd wanted, but she supposed it was the truth.
A sudden shift in the wind rattled the cabin walls. The sound made her glance toward the window. "How far away is your pack?"
"Far enough." He stood, crossing to her. "For now."
She looked up just as he reached for her coat. "What—"
"It won't hold like that," he said, taking it gently from her hands. "Here."
He crouched by the fire, pulling a strip of leather from his pack and threading it through the torn fabric with sure, steady hands. She found herself watching him — the focus in his movements, the faint scar along his jaw, the way his hair caught the firelight.
When he handed the coat back, their fingers brushed. It was a small thing, barely more than a touch, but it sent the curse humming between them, warm and dangerous.
Neither of them spoke.
Then the stillness shattered.
A howl rose in the distance — long, low, and joined by others. Not the lone cry of a wanderer, but the coordinated call of a hunt.
Aric's head snapped toward the sound, his eyes narrowing. "They're closer than I thought."
Liora's pulse spiked. "Your pack?"
"Not yet," he said grimly. "But if we don't move now, they will be."