They walked for over an hour along the narrow ridge above the river.
Snow fell in fine, drifting sheets, coating Marcus's shoulders in white.
When they stopped, Eshara knelt to untie a small leather pouch at her hip.
She pulled out a few sprigs of dried leaves—pale green and brittle—and pressed them into his hand.
"Eat," she said simply.
Marcus looked at them skeptically.
"What is it?"
"Will help your blood recover."
He hesitated, then chewed.
The taste was sharp and grassy, with a faint bitterness that made his tongue prickle.
He swallowed and shivered.
A moment passed.
Then Marcus glanced sideways at her, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You know…"
Eshara didn't look up from tightening her pack straps.
"…I can't believe I'm saying this, but…"
She raised one eyebrow, waiting.
"…I kind of miss smoothies."
Her eyebrow rose higher.
"Smoothies," she repeated flatly.
"Yeah." He gave a crooked, embarrassed smile.
"Like…bananas, honey, that kind of thing. And hot bread. Or, hell, just—real food. Not bark and…whatever this is."
He lifted the last leaf between his fingers.
Eshara let out a single, small exhale that might almost have been a laugh.
"Then you were softer than I thought," she murmured.
Marcus groaned.
"Thanks. Very comforting."
He crouched to poke a fallen pinecone with his finger.
"Where you're taking me…"
Her black eyes shifted to watch him.
"…is there good food there?"
Eshara tilted her head.
"There is sustenance," she said calmly.
"That is not an answer," he muttered.
"It is the only one you require."
He sighed and looked down at his bare feet in the snow.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter.
"Eshara…"
Her gaze lifted from her pack to his face.
"…can we stay one more day?"
Her expression didn't change.
"Why?"
Marcus rubbed his arms.
"I just…"
He swallowed.
"I want to make sure the old man is all right. That his grandkids are safe. He didn't seem worried, but…"
His words trailed into the cold air.
Eshara's eyes narrowed a fraction.
"You are attached to a stranger."
"I'm not attached," Marcus said quickly.
Eshara said nothing.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"…Maybe I am," he admitted.
She rose slowly, the snow sliding from her coat in small avalanches.
"The reason I want to leave," she said evenly, "is not because of sentiment."
Her black gaze fixed on the treeline behind them.
"There is too much bear activity here. The cold drives them lower into the valley."
Marcus hesitated.
"But—"
"It is winter," she said, her voice calm but final.
"If we slow too much, we will become prey. Or we will waste precious time you need to learn."
He stared at her, his mouth working.
She watched him with the same unreadable patience.
"Marcus," she said softly.
"You cannot care for every passing life. Not now."
His chest tightened.
"He was kind."
"He was wise enough not to fear me," she corrected.
"That is not the same."
He turned away, hugging his arms around himself.
Snow drifted in silence between them.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Finally, Eshara exhaled a long, slow breath.
"One more night," she said.
Marcus turned, startled.
Her gaze was steady.
"But in the morning, we leave. No more delays."
Relief flooded through him, even as guilt twisted in his stomach.
"Thank you," he whispered.
They found a sheltered hollow ringed by pine trunks leaning together.
Eshara built a small fire, coaxing the coals to life with a patience he envied.
Marcus sat across from her, studying the flicker of flames on her cheekbones.
The heat eased the chill in his bones, but not the tension in his mind.
He thought about the old man's lined face, about the way he had looked at him—without judgment, without fear.
He wondered if there was anyone left in the city who would have done the same.
Eshara glanced up at him, as if reading the thought.
"You will see more," she said quietly.
"More of the ones who remember what it means to be human."
He looked at her, searching for irony in her voice.
But there was none.
When the dawn came, Marcus stood at the edge of the clearing, his breath fogging in the cold.
He stared down the slope toward the river bend, but there was no sign of the old man.
Eshara waited behind him, silent.
He closed his eyes and let the last embers of longing fade.
When he turned back, she nodded once, and together they walked into the trees.