"Where were you headed before everything happened?" Ayoka hesitated. She was not avoiding the truth, merely choosing it carefully. "I was trying to find my grandmother's old hunting ground," she said. "It is a place far from my band, a place no one watches anymore.
I thought I could live there for a short time, just until I knew what to do next." "Why there?" "Because it is the last place where I remember feeling safe." Elias nodded. He understood that desire better than he'd ever admit aloud.
Later in the day, Ayoka insisted on helping around the ranch. She stood beside Elias as he fed the horse, leaning on the barn wall when her leg got tired. She asked him how to mend torn saddle straps. He showed her how to scrape dirt from the horseshoes. She watched with focus, absorbing every detail.
For the first time, she wasn't frozen in survival mode. She was participating. "You don't have to do this," Elias said quietly. "I know," she replied, "but I want to move again. I don't want to sit with my memories all day."
They spent hours working side by side. Sometimes they spoke, sometimes they didn't, but even the silence felt lighter. When Ayoka's ankle gave out, Elias moved to steady her without hesitation. She gripped his arm, not in panic this time, but in trust, a steady, calm trust built from the nights he sat with her and the truth he shared without expecting anything in return. "You should rest," he said gently.
Ayoka shook her head. "I can still help." Her determination impressed him, but he saw the strain in her eyes. He placed one hand under her elbow, guiding her to sit. "You're trying too hard," he said.
"I've taken enough from you," she murmured. "You haven't taken anything I didn't give freely." She looked up sharply, meeting his eyes. He rarely said things like that, clear, honest, unguarded. It left a warmth in her chest she didn't know how to explain.
As evening settled, they shared dinner outside near the fire pit. Elias sat with his back against a wooden post, elbows resting on his knees. Ayoka sat a short distance away, close enough to feel his presence, far enough that she could still see the landscape clearly, old habits of vigilance dying slowly. She studied him quietly. "Do you miss them every day?" she asked.
Elias didn't pretend not to understand. "Yes," he said, "but talking about it, it made something easier." "For you?" she asked. "For both of us." Ayoka lowered her gaze, the flicker of the fire reflecting off her eyes.