The night was unreasonably quiet, save for the crackling of the campfire. Its orange glow licked at the surrounding darkness, casting long, flickering shadows over the barren, snow-covered landscape. Zara sat close to the flames, arms wrapped around Leo, rocking him unconsciously as she stared at Winter.
He was sprawled out on the other side of the fire, his rifle resting beside him, his dark hair messy against the bundled-up jacket he used as a makeshift pillow. His chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm.
Her eyes flickered down to the sleeping form beneath her coat. Leo stirred slightly, his small hand clutching the fabric as if sensing her distress even in sleep. Her heart ached.
The firelight wavered, and her vision abruptly shifted.
