Grace
The fire burned low, embers glowing red against the pale snow. Grace sat in silence, her hands wrapped tight around the shredded fabric she’d used to bind Kaleb’s wounds. The cloth was stained through, dark with his blood, but she couldn’t bring herself to throw it away. It was proof he was still here, still alive, even after the storm he had walked into for her.
The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and something darker—iron, ash, the memory of violence. The forest had quieted, but it wasn’t peace. It was the hush before another scream.
Kaleb shifted against the rock behind her, his breaths steady but shallow. He hadn’t complained, hadn’t so much as winced as she’d cleaned the worst of his cuts, but Grace could see the stiffness in the way he held himse
