She usually argued with him, gave some sort of protest, but this time she didn’t. Instead, she turned to look out the window. Snow was falling again and the world was white.

He shut the door behind him and when he went in later to check on her, she was sleeping, her tea cup empty, covers twisted around her waist. He pulled them up to her chin and, not for the first time, wondered what in the hell he was going to do about her.

* * * *

She woke screaming again.

She couldn’t remember the dream, she just knew it terrified her. Silas stumbled in, feeling his way to the bed.

“Bad dream,” she whispered.

He sat on the edge. “Do you remember?”

“No.” It was hard to explain to someone how you could be so afraid of something you couldn’t recall, but that overwhelming sense of terror wouldn’t leave her limbs-they trembled under the blankets.

“Are you cold? Do you want me to put more wood in the stove?” He adjusted her covers in the darkness.

“No.” She shivered. He started to stand and she grabbed his arm. “Please. Stay for a while?”

His weight made the little bed creak as he sat. She didn’t let go, gripping the thick expanse of his forearm. They stayed that way for a few moments, quiet, their breath the only sound in the room.

“Would you talk to me?” she whispered, swallowing past her fear.

He shifted on the bed. “What about?”

“Anything.” Her hand slid down, finding its way into his.

Silas cleared his throat, squeezing her hand gently, and she waited, her heart still trying to find a normal beat. Just his presence helped, but the calming sound of his voice was better.

“I saw a wolf today,” he said finally. “She was really something.”

“You did?” She half-sat, already interested. “How do you know it was a ‘she’?”

“Females are smaller than males,” he explained. “I wish you could have seen her. I was out back getting wood and I looked up and there she was, right at the top of the hill.”