She nodded once, but didn't thank him. He didn't expect her to. Gratitude wasn't easy when you'd lost everything. The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of rain hitting the roof. She dried her hands near the fire, glancing around the small cabin, the single bed, the saddle leaning against the wall, the rifle above the door.
Her gaze lingered on the photograph on the shelf. A younger Elias in uniform beside two other men, both long dead now. Elias followed her eyes and looked away. He didn't like questions, and he could tell she didn't want to ask any. That was fine with him.
When she finally spoke, her voice was low and rough. You live here alone? He nodded. Been that way a while. She studied the fire light flickering on the floor.
Alone is safer, she murmured. He almost smiled, though it wasn't a happy thought. Sometimes they didn't talk after that. She finished her coffee, sat by the fire, and wrapped herself in the woven blanket. Her breathing slowed.
The rain outside softened, turning to a steady whisper. Elias watched her from across the room, his mind caught between suspicion and something he hadn't felt in years, concern. He thought about asking her where she came from, but decided against it. Everyone out here was running from something. The fewer words spoken, the better the night went.
He rose quietly, threw another log onto the fire, and turned toward his cot. Before lying down, he glanced back one last time. She had fallen asleep, sitting up, head resting against the wall, the blanket drawn tight around her shoulders. Outside, the storm moved east, leaving only the echo of thunder and the smell of wet dust. Inside the cabin, two strangers, one running from her past, the other trying to bury his, shared the same small pocket of warmth in a cold, endless land.
Elias didn't know it yet, but that night was the first time in years he'd made space for someone else to exist beside him. The next morning came in pale, dusty light. The storm had passed, leaving the ground outside covered with streaks of mud and broken sage brush. Inside the cabin, the fire had burned down to glowing coals. Elias woke to the sound of quiet movement.
The woman, already awake, crouched near the hearth, stirring the embers back to life. Her blanket had slipped off her shoulders, and steam rose faintly from her still damp hair. For a moment, Elias didn't speak. He just watched her, trying to understand the reason she had come, or if she planned to leave now that the rain was gone. She moved with practice calm, careful not to make noise.
It struck him that she wasn't acting like someone lost or helpless. She was used to surviving on her own. He sat up, pulling on his boots. You can use the well behind the barn, he said, his voice rough from sleep. If you're heading out, she didn't answer right away.
Instead, she looked over her shoulder, her dark eyes steady. Nowhere to go. The words landed heavier than he expected. He nodded once and didn't press further. He went outside, needing air.