Rowan
The walk back to the patrol line was unbearable. Not because of the snow. Not because of the cold cutting through the forest now that the strange heat from the gas had finally faded. Because Marybeth wouldn’t look at me.
She stayed several steps ahead the entire time, arms folded tightly across herself as if she could physically hold her emotions together through force alone. Or maybe keep me out. Probably both. I watched her carefully as we moved through the trees.
She was exhausted. The attack, the exposure, the emotional fallout from the cabin … It was written all over her face. And still she refused to lean on me even once. Typical. Part of me admired that strength.
Another part wanted to shake her until she stopped pretending last night meant nothing. Not because we had ki
