The day was pale and cold, the sky the color of old bone.
Marcus walked behind Eshara along the ridge.
By midmorning, she had stopped to harvest the last of the roots she needed.
While she worked, Marcus stood with the wind combing through his hair, staring down at the river bend.
Below, a thin column of smoke drifted into the air—someone had built a small cooking fire.
He squinted, heart thudding when he saw the old man's familiar coat.
This time, he wasn't alone.
Two smaller figures moved around him—one a boy in a red knit hat, the other a little girl crouched by a tackle box.
Marcus felt something in his chest tighten.
He didn't move any closer.
He stayed hidden behind a frost-laced boulder, watching them laugh and chatter over the lines.
He knew he shouldn't go down.
He was still naked.
Even with the snow swirling around his ankles, it felt wrong to approach while the children were there.
So he waited, listening to their voices carry faintly up the slope.
It was the change in the old man's posture that made Marcus look again.
The old man had gone still, his hand raised to hush the children.
Beyond them, along the riverbank, something moved—broad and low to the ground.
A bear, its winter coat dull and matted.
It sniffed the air, turning its massive head toward the little girl crouched by the tackle box.
Marcus's breath stopped.
The bear huffed, lowering its head.
It looked too thin.
Too desperate.
And when it took the first heavy step forward, Marcus knew it wasn't going to back down.
He didn't think.
He moved.
Snow flew as he bounded down the slope, feet numb against the frozen earth.
The bear lifted its head, eyes narrowing.
The old man turned, surprise and recognition flickering across his face.
Marcus let out a low growl, his own voice strange in his throat.
The bear huffed, hesitated—
Then charged.
Marcus met it halfway, claws bursting from his fingertips.
The two children screamed.
The bear reared back, paw swinging.
Marcus ducked, claws raking along its shoulder.
Blood sprayed, hot against his chest.
The bear let out a choking roar, staggered—
And bolted downriver, leaving a churned trail of prints behind.
Silence rushed in behind the sound.
Marcus stood panting, claws dripping red.
The old man exhaled slowly, relief softening his lined face.
"You all right?" Marcus asked hoarsely.
The old man nodded, voice steady.
"Thanks to you."
He glanced at his wide-eyed grandchildren.
"Kids," he said gently, "this here's a friend."
The boy looked Marcus up and down, wide-eyed.
"…Why don't you have clothes?"
Marcus felt his face go hot even in the cold wind.
"Uh."
The old man cleared his throat, smiling faintly.
"He's a loup-garou," he said.
"A kind of…old forest person. Part wolf, part man."
The little girl blinked.
"…Is he gonna eat us?"
Marcus raised both hands, palms open.
"No," he said quickly.
"I swear, I'm really not."
The old man chuckled, then picked up one of the rods.
"Don't mind them," he told Marcus.
"They've never seen anyone like you."
Marcus swallowed, then managed a smile.
"Most people haven't."
He shifted his weight, glancing back at the river.
"I…I'll stay in the water," he said awkwardly.
"Out of decency."
The old man nodded solemnly.
"Fair enough."
Marcus waded into the shallows, cold biting at his legs.
From there, he watched the old man help the children bait hooks and cast lines.
For a little while, it almost felt normal.
When the sun started sinking behind the pines, Marcus knew it was time to go.
He turned toward the old man, raising his voice over the wind.
"Hey—"
The old man looked up.
Marcus managed a grin.
"Next winter…when I come back…"
He hesitated, heart beating faster.
"…could you maybe…bring a chili cheeseburger?"
The old man barked a surprised laugh.
"A chili cheeseburger?"
Marcus nodded solemnly.
"I'm serious. I'm going to need it. I don't think there's going to be good food where I'm headed."
The old man's eyes warmed, crinkling at the corners.
"You got yourself a deal."
He lifted a hand in farewell.
"I'll bring two. Just in case."
Marcus swallowed around the sudden tightness in his throat.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"I…really mean that."
He turned and waded back across the river, shivering as the water clung to his skin.
When he reached the far bank, he paused one last time.
The old man raised his hand in a final wave.
Marcus lifted his hand in return.
Then he turned into the trees.
Eshara stood waiting just beyond the first line of trunks, her arms folded.
"You made your goodbyes," she said, voice low.
Marcus nodded, wiping the cold from his mouth.
"Yeah."
"Then we go."
He looked back once, watching the smoke from the old man's fire drift into the darkening sky.
And then he followed Eshara into the shadows of the forest, heart steady despite the cold.