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He found her dozing, elbow on the dining table and head propped on the heel of her hand.

Ezekiel paused at the bottom of the staircase.

Sunlight spilled from the kitchen windows falling in straight slants across the kitchen floor. One band of light fell over her forearm highlighting the fine pale hairs which stood on end from the cold.

Her chest rose and fell steadily, a line of drool trailing her mouth corner.

He circled from behind on quiet feet, halting at an angle where her face was visible. Even in sleep her brows were furrowed as though trying to solve something. But it was the red crescents beneath her eyes that drew his attention and the tip of her nose flushed ruddy.

He positioned his foot on a loose board, leaning his weight onto it just enough to startle her awake.

“Long night?” Ezekiel asked, walking towards the sink and picking out a mug to rinse.

There were more utensils from the night prior; a bowl with dregs of milk and some mushed oats crusted at the corners.

Behind him Leyla stirred.

He heard her confused movements on the table; reaching for the crutches then – after a moment’s hesitation – releasing them. “Yeah,” she uttered with a raspy voice.

He rinsed off the mug and cleared her dishes.

Her eyes were on his back.

“Good morning.” She said after a moment.

Ezekiel put the kettle on the stove, set a tea bag in his chipped mug, and turned leaning onto the counter with his lower back. His eyes met hers across the air; “Good morning.”

Now with a full view of her visage it was evident she had been crying. Her cheek which had been propped had a few shallow lines that matched the patterns on her sleeve.

His attention cut briefly as he turned to pour himself a mug, and after a pause, he reached for another mug with the worn out words ‘teacher of the year’ printed around it, and poured another set with a tea bag.

Her sleepy eyes blinked up at him in confusion as he set the mug before her.

“Crying makes you dehydrated.” He said and took a sip of his own burning tea, relishing on the sting that blistered his tongue.

Leyla’s eyes widened. She looked away sharply while scrubbing at her eyes with her sleeves, “I didn’t– I wasn’t–”

Ezekiel sipped from his mug, sucking on the tenderness of his tongue.

Her shoulders drooped resignedly after a moment as she stared at the steam rising from her mug, as if the right words would form from it.

“... I was overwhelmed.” She admitted lowly.

He hadn’t asked her for an explanation yet here she was trying to justify her sullen behavior.

“... and I couldn’t sleep much so I came downstairs.” Her eyes flicked towards the bowl he had washed and set on the rack, then at him apologetically. “I meant to wash that.”

Ezekiel finished his tea.

“I’m heading to the shed,” he said, brushing over her conversation as if it were of no importance.

Walking past her he opened a door set beside the pantry and reached inside, pausing once as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and layers of random clothing.

Something inside would fit her.

His fingers skimmed over a few materials before settling on one that was woolen and shaggy.

“The shed?” Her voice was unsure beside him. She still hadn’t drank from the mug but was cradling it between her small hands.

He nodded and lifted the fabric watching as it unfurled itself. He cast the jacket a shrewd eye then moved over her body with the same patience.

“Try this on.” He was already tossing the jacket at her while crouching low searching for a pair of boots that might fit her size. They were all too large. Pity.

“Where am I going?”

“To the shed.” He pulled out a pair of worn boots and blew over the material. A plume of dust wafted across the air. This would have to fit her for now until he figured out where to buy her new boots.

He paused at that thought.

Buy her new boots.

He tested it, turned it over while brushing a lazy thumb over the boot in hand.

Buying her a new boot meant spending his own essentials.

It meant placing a sense of importance on her, and burdening himself with a responsibility that was not his own.

“I’m going to the shed?”

Drawn out of his mind he glanced at her from over his shoulder. She was still clasping the jacket between her hands while staring at him befuddled, yet beneath all that was a sliver of hope he caught flashing through.

“Would you like to stay in the house?” He asked patiently.

Leyla didn’t have to mull over his words. “No.”

“Get dressed then.”

By the time she was done struggling to enter the jacket and lace up the boots; one laced and another opened to accommodate her cast, Ezekiel was standing at the open doorway staring out into the backyard.

The snow had covered her previous night’s attempt at escape. His eyes tracked the glistening white surface vaguely listening to the crutches clacking behind as she drew close.

He cast her once over and reached behind the door for a scarf, handing it to her. She reached for it, her fingers brushing his in the process. “Thank you.”

“Can you walk?” He gestured at the patio steps then her leg.

“I can.”

Ezekiel turned and began to make his way towards the shed. He didn’t glance back at her once. Not even when he heard her small yelp as she nearly slipped.

“Careful.” Was all he said, then as an afterthought, decidedly dragged his feet through the snow cutting an unbroken path for her to follow without having to fight her way.

The shed door had been frozen solid.

He gripped the handle and gave it a sharp tug shattering the ice. Cold air rushed out of the shed as he stepped inside, pausing as his eyes adjusted to the darkness for the windows had been covered the previous week.

His tools lined the walls on every side and a table that curved around the corner was bare save for a saw and ax he had set out with intentions of chopping wood for the cold winter nights.

Leyla’s shriek cut through the air.

Ezekiel stopped what he was doing and, still grasping the ax, backtracked towards the open door where he found her halfway through the path sliding on the one boot. Her tongue poked out from her mouth corner in avid concentration, a bead of sweat forming on her brow despite the cold.

As if sensing his stare, she glanced up at him and smiled apologetically. “I’m okay.”

“Go around back,” he said, turning into the shed, “I’ll meet you there.”

“Back? Back where?”

“The shed.”

“What’s behind there?”

Ezekiel was silent. He continued rummaging through his materials, pausing once when his eyes landed on the large chains which had been used to shackle her car and drag it downhill. He pushed that under the bench and shoved a few sacs atop it.

From the other end he could hear her movements, unsure yet steady, as she diverted from his path and carefully moved around the shed. She was breathing hard, making surprised sounds in the back of her throat.

He finished gathering the tools he needed and found her halfway around the bend. Her fingers were red where they gripped the crutches, and she was moving slower now, the effort of not slipping fatiguing her muscles.

He came to stop beside her. “Put your arm around my shoulder.”

She was shorter than he anticipated now that he stood by her side. Short enough for her head to crane far back with squinted eyes. Short enough for his shadow to eclipse her.

“What?”

Ezekiel swung the ax over his shoulder. This time an impatient look crossed his face, “You’re moving slow and we need to get the wood in before night time.”

“I can walk–”

“I heard you the first time, Leyla.” At the sound of her name her lips shut. Something warred across her features but he had no time for contemplation.

Crouching low enough for their shoulders to be level. Ezekiel grasped her crutch and gave it a light tug, encouraging her to release it and hold his shoulder instead. She obeyed. Her arm moved over the back of his neck and gripped his deltoid.

The crutch fell with a muted thud onto the snow as he released it and curled an arm around her back.

Leyla made a noise as she listed to the side and suddenly she was airborne as he straightened. Air rushed around her as he swung her body across using his free arm to grasp the back of her thighs carrying her bridal-style.

Ezekiel crouched again, leveling her within arms reach of the crutches. “Pick them.”

She did and placed them neatly on her belly.

They walked past the shed and further into the start of the woods where he had marked out the trees for axing down. He walked for a while, the sound of his boots crunching on snow filling up the space between them.

Though his eyes were ahead he risked a brief glance down at the crown of her head. She was facing forward with evident strain of not wanting to lean too much into his chest. Her hand would occasionally flex on his shoulder as she adjusted her grip.

She began to relax in his hold after some time. “Where are we heading?”

“We need wood for the night.”

“Oh.”

After a beat she looked up at him then away. “... I tried leaving last night.”

I know.

“Is that so?”

She nodded then laughed hollowly. “I didn’t make it far though.” Her hand gestured at the crutches which she gripped tight while saying, “... which is why I was crying.”

“I see.”

Her scent was dull beneath his layers of clothing, the subtlety concealed by his own musk and the odor of the old boots.

It was fine, he thought, for her to be out like this.

No animal would be able to scent her from afar. He relied on the forest’s loyalty and the soil memory of his markings to pervade the perimeters for as long as he lived. She was a secret it would keep well enough.

It was a risk, he knew, to bring her out like this.

But today would be a day where very few animals were roaming, hunting. With the weather a dullness that warded off any prey, he was sure that there would be none.

And if they happened to stumble across them, well, he had his ax.