You need to eat," he said, his tone firm but calm. " If you keep going like this, you're going to collapse. Seiya did not argue. She did not have enough strength left for pride. The exhaustion on her face made that clear.
Wade took a small pot down from the shelf and poured in the broth left from the night before. He set it over the stove and warmed it slowly, stirring with the same steady care he had shown Taza. Seiya watched him work. She noticed the precision of his hands. The attention he gave even the smallest task.
How long have you lived alone? She asked. Wade nodded slightly. 3 years." " "Why here?"
There was more behind the question than simple curiosity. She needed to understand the man who had spent an entire night fighting beside her to keep her son alive. Wade hesitated. Talking about himself had never come easily. But avoiding her question now felt wrong.
It's quiet country, he said. Far from people, far from trouble. Seiya studied him in silence. There was no judgment in her expression, only recognition. You lost someone.
It was not really a question. It was the voice of someone who knew grief well enough to recognize it in another person. Wade gave the broth one last stir, then set the bowl in front of her. My brother, he answered. He had meant to leave it there, but the memory pressed harder than he expected.
It happened during an ambush on a cattle outfit. I couldn't reach Eli in time. Seiya did not offer him hollow comfort. She did not tell him he had done his best or try to soften what had happened with easy words. She only dipped her head once, accepting his grief for what it was.
Then she began to eat slowly carefully. Each spoonful was measured, almost deliberate. Her body clearly needed the food, but her attention never truly left Taza. Every few moments, her eyes returned to the boy, checking his face, his chest, the rhythm of his breathing. When the bowl was empty, Seiya pushed it aside and rose again.
This time, she stood with more strength beneath her. Wade stepped outside to check the water barrel behind the cabin. The morning air carried a thin edge of cold that brushed against the sleeves of his shirt. He paused there and studied the open country with the caution years on the trail had carved into him. Nothing moved along the dry creek bed.
No fresh tracks disturbed the dust, no riders, no scouts, no distant column of dirt rising against the horizon. Everything was still. When Wade returned inside, he found Seiya carefully tucking the blanket around her son. In daylight, she looked different. She was still guarded, still alert, still carrying herself like a woman who expected danger to return the moment she relaxed.