For the first time, her eyes softened toward him. "You regret yours?" she asked. "Everyone?" he said simply.
"But I keep waking up, so maybe that counts for something." "That night, wind rose again, dragging dust against the windows." Naira slept near the hearth, her face calm in the firelight. Elias couldn't rest. He sat at the table, sharpening his knife as always, but his thoughts wouldn't quiet.
He remembered the faces of men he'd scouted with, the raids on camps that weren't supposed to happen, the screams in the dark. He had told himself that following orders was duty, but looking at Naira now, curled beside his fire. He couldn't hide behind that anymore. Every scar on her body was a reflection of what he'd helped make possible. Near midnight, she stirred and saw him still awake.
"You don't sleep," she said softly. "Used to listening for trouble," he replied. "There's no trouble here." He gave a tired smile. "There always is.
It just waits its turn." She stood, walked over, and poured him a cup of water. Then maybe we stopped waiting. He met her gaze, seeing something firm behind it. "Not defiance, but strength.
You think that's possible?" he asked. Her eyes didn't waver. Only if we stop running from ghosts. Elias didn't answer.
She set the cup beside him, went back to her blanket, and lay down. He sat there a long time, listening to the fire die down, the sound of her breathing steady and sure. For years, he had lived by one rule. Keep your distance. Trust no one.
But tonight, the silence between them wasn't empty. It was fragile, yes, but it felt real, earned through pain neither of them had chosen. As dawn crept over the horizon, Elias finally lay down. The ghosts were still there, but quieter now. For the first time in a long while, he thought maybe he wasn't meant to face them alone.
Outside, the first light touched the desert ridge, turning it gold. Inside, the cabin held two people who had stopped running. Not out of hope, but because they had nowhere else to go. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start over. The summer heat arrived without warning.
By late June, the land had hardened into a sheet of pale dust. The little stream that Naira had helped dig from began to shrink, its trickle fading to a thin line under the rocks. Every day felt longer than the one before. The horses grew restless, the corn wilted, and the air itself seemed to hum with exhaustion. Elias had seen drought before, but this one felt heavier.
Not just because of the dry air, but because this time he wasn't alone. He and Naira worked from dawn until dark, digging deeper into the trench, patching leaks with stones, hauling buckets from the far edge of the valley. Sweat streaked their faces, and their hands split from the roughness of the tools. Neither complained. It was the first real test of their uneasy partnership.