"You planning to stay?" he asked finally.
Naya looked at the floor for a long time before meeting his eyes. "If can," she said simply. Calder let out a slow breath. Something in him eased at those words.
"Then you stay," he said. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly, the closest thing to a smile he had seen on her face since she arrived. She shifted closer, still careful, as if waiting for him to tell her to stop. Calder didn't.
When her head came to rest against his shoulder, he sat still, letting her stay there. The fire popped in the stove, and the wind outside rattled the shutters. For once, Calder didn't feel the old pull of tension in his chest. When she finally moved away to lie down, he didn't take the cot for himself, but stayed sitting there until she was asleep.
Later, he banked the fire and lay down beside her, leaving a respectful space between them but close enough to feel the warmth of another body. Sleep came easier that night. For the first time since she had arrived, Calder didn't dream of war or empty rooms. The thaw came slowly that week, with days that were just warm enough to turn the ground soft and nights that still froze it solid again.
The cabin smelled of damp earth and smoke, and Calder kept the fire going longer than usual to chase the chill away. Each morning, he found Naya already awake, sitting near the stove with the blanket around her shoulders, hair loose down her back. She had begun to move with purpose now, no longer waiting for him to tell her what needed doing. She swept the floor, aired out the bedding, and stacked kindling before he even put his boots on.
One morning, while she was wringing out the rag she'd used to wipe the table, Calder caught himself just watching her. The curve of her back, the way her hair swung as she bent forward. He turned away quickly, pulling on his coat and stepping outside to clear his head. The yard was wet, mud clinging to his boots as he walked the fence line.
Each post he checked reminded him that the world outside this cabin hadn't changed. There were still men out there who might be looking for her. If they came, it would be his fight too. When he came back in, she was crouched by the fire, sewing a patch onto the knee of his work pants.
She looked up at him, and for the first time he saw no fear in her face. "You worry too much," she said quietly. He gave a short grunt that might have been a laugh. "Somebody has to."
Her lips curved slightly, and she went back to stitching. That night, after supper, Calder sat sharpening his knife while Naya brushed out her hair by the fire. She had washed it earlier, and it hung damp and shining down her back. The cabin felt too quiet.
"You ever think about leaving?" he asked suddenly, the words surprising even him. Naya's hand stilled. She turned her head to look at him. "Where go?"
"Back south. Maybe find what's left of your people."
Her gaze dropped to the floor. "No one left," she said softly. "All gone." Calder set the knife aside.
"Then you stay here until you decide different," he said. She nodded once, as if that was enough, and went back to combing through the ends of her hair. When it was time to bank the fire, Calder hesitated before spreading out his bedroll on the floor. He'd been giving her the cot every night since she arrived, but something about the way she had looked at him just now made him stop.
"You can take the cot," he said finally, motioning toward it. Naya shook her head slowly, then did something she hadn't done before. She stood, crossed to the cot, and sat down on one side, leaving space for him. Calder stayed where he was for a long moment.