The next morning, as Emily stepped out of her room, she noticed Henry standing in the yard, talking with the young man. Seeing her, Henry asked, “Are you ready?”

Emily nodded, realizing Henry had known about her departure all along. The anticipation that had kept her awake all night was now replaced by excitement, a feeling soon tainted by self-reproach. She chided herself, *Emily, you were thrilled all along. Why did you pretend to hesitate last night? To enjoy this thrill? Don’t take it for granted.* She marveled at her own hypocrisy.

The young man, Chris, turned towards her, offering a gentle smile that seemed as pure as the pristine snowcapped mountains. Emily self-consciously lowered her gaze.

She hadn’t yet eaten breakfast when a sleek black car arrived to pick up the young man. Henry helped her with her luggage—just a single suitcase, a hand-me-down from Aunt Mary, who had insisted it would look more respectable.

Chris appeared to be pressed for time, frequently checking his watch, yet he showed no impatience as Henry imparted his endless wisdom. In the end, Aunt Mary had to intervene, signaling Henry to wrap it up.

Once seated in the car, Aunt Mary, tears glistening in her eyes, clasped Emily’s hands through the window. “Emily, listen to Chris from now on, okay?”

Emily solemnly nodded, as the car began its journey. In the rear-view mirror, Henry and Aunt Mary became smaller figures, their eyes glued in the direction of the departing vehicle.

Chris turned from the front seat to reassure her, “You can visit home whenever you want.”

Neighbors along the way waved as they passed. The road to town, once covered in snow, had been cleared that morning, with many still shoveling along the sides.

Emily knew this was no coincidence. Leaning forward, she asked the question she’d been pondering since last night, “Chris, why does everyone like you so much?”

The driver, John, stifled a laugh. Emily glanced over at him—like Chris, he didn’t look much older than her, carrying the unmistakable air of city life that seemed at odds with the rural surroundings.

“Chris, you’re practically an uncle now,” John joked. With a teasing glance at Emily, Chris suggested with a hint of embarrassment, “I’m not old enough to be called ‘uncle,’ Emily. You can call me ‘brother’.”

His bashful demeanor was a stark contrast to his earlier dignified charisma, and Emily felt a mischievous pleasure at his discomfort. She feigned timidity, “Brother…”

“You really cornered her,” John teased, “Let her call you uncle if she wants.”

“John!” Chris protested, clearly not pleased.

John threw his hands up, “So, what’ll it be, little one?”

Emily playfully responded, “Uncle…”

This time, John beamed triumphantly while Chris sighed. With a resigned look, he said, “Uncle it is then.”

Emily perked up instantly, “Uncle Chris!”

The name shocked Chris into a series of coughs, feeling as if he’d aged decades. As the road grew bumpy, John nodded towards the towering mountains outside. “See those towers, kiddo?”

Emily knew them well, those towers standing resolute like sentinels, pressing through the harshest winds.

John explained, “Those are Chris’s doing; we call it the base.”

“What’s it for?” Emily asked, curious.

“Signal transmission—things like internet and phone reception,” John replied, noting Emily's puzzled expression.

“Stuff you’ll learn when you’re older,” John bragged with mock wisdom, “It’s complex economics stuff.”

Emily nodded, pretending to understand, while Chris added, “Don’t let Uncle John fool you.”

“I gave her the essentials!” John exaggeratedly protested before Chris playfully countered, “You’re both uncles.”

Emily pondered aloud, “But how do you manage to place such towers atop these landslide-prone mountains?”

Though seemingly childish, John took her query sincerely, offering the most fitting answer he could. “And that’s why they respect Chris.”

“In countries around the world,” John added earnestly, “he has friends who hold him in high esteem.”

Years later, Emily would reflect on John's words with a clarity youth didn’t afford her—a weighty reverence for those who bore such burdens, the pride and camaraderie among heroes.

Her immediate curiosity, however, lingered on Chris’s reason for taking her in. Was it solely out of the goodness of his heart?

As the discussion turned technical between John and Chris, Emily’s attention drifted, lulled by the car’s gentle motion, the landscape a fleeting canvas outside her window.

She was lost in this reverie when weariness overtook her, her eyelids growing heavy. Chris noticed her sleepy state and instructed, “Turn up the heat.”

He handed her his coat, “Keep warm. We have a long train ride to the city ahead.”

Emily hesitated, shrinking back, “I don’t want to trouble you.”

Chris quickly assured her, “It’ll be more trouble if you catch a cold.”

So, she accepted his offering, inhaling its subtle, elegant scent, a fragrance as comforting as the man himself. Settling into the backseat, she drifted to sleep.

But even in rest, her dreams were tumultuous—an African savannah interfering with peaceful slumber, nightmares chasing the delicate sleep away.

Startled awake, heart pounding, she heard John’s soothing voice, “Quite the nap, kiddo.”

Emily exhaled deeply, relieved to be back in reality. The car had stopped at a roadside café, waiting for her to join them for a meal. Emily felt a surge of warmth, her heart swelling with gratitude.

After the meal, they resumed their journey to the train station. Emily’s eyes drank in the unfamiliar cityscape, as the world she knew faded behind her.

By afternoon, the train station was a sea of humanity. Chris held Emily’s hand, guiding her safely through the crowd. Their compartment, reserved for their privacy, drew curious looks from passersby, but Emily paid no mind.

Inside, the luxury of the compartment was overwhelming. As Emily clumsily tried to store her luggage, Chris stood behind her, helping without a word. When her suitcase finally settled, she turned to him. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, barely audible.

Chris asked if she was thirsty, and despite her customary reserve, she admitted with a slight nod. Moments later, he returned with water, noticing the swollen redness in her hands.

“What happened here?” he asked with concern.

“Just chilblains,” Emily said defensively. “They flare up once warm.”

Chris frowned, mulling over the challenges she’d faced. Ordered to fetch lotion, John reluctantly surrendered his cherished cream.

“Here,” Chris said, gently rubbing the cream onto Emily’s fingers.

Unused to such kindness, Emily felt compelled to explain, “I didn’t mean to hurt my hands digging out frozen carrots…”

Chris glanced up, absorbing the hardship etched into her tender hands, stained by cold and work.

John, watching, promised grander generosity, volunteering to supply her skincare needs until maturity. The gesture amused Emily little, her focus solely on Chris's gentle attentiveness.

As he continued soothing her sore hands, Emily felt her apprehension melt away, replaced by a warmth unfelt since she was a child, imbued with trust.

With the train’s steady vibrations beneath her, Chris offered an apology that wrapped around her like his coat’s warmth.

Emily shook her head, acknowledging the unspoken gratitude for being found.

Their journey had begun; Emily sensed a future brightened by the promise this new dawn held, guided by the warmth of a savior cloaked in an unassuming elegance, carrying the scent of home with him.