The fire crackles between them, its orange glow flickering across Natalie's tired face. She stabs at the embers with a broken branch, sending up a shower of sparks that dance briefly before vanishing into the cold night air. Travis leans against the rough cabin wall, his arms crossed tight over his chest, breath visible in the freezing air. His boot scuffs against the frozen ground, kicking up a puff of snow that settles between them like yet another unspoken thing.

"You're late for watch again," Natalie says without looking up, her voice flat. The words hang there, as brittle as the ice coating the tree branches.

Travis exhales sharply through his nose, his shoulders tensing under his worn flannel. He stares at the side of her face, at the way the firelight catches the dark circles under her eyes. "Didn't realize you were keeping track," he mutters, the words coming out rougher than he intended.

Natalie finally lifts her gaze, the shadows making her look older than seventeen. "Someone's gotta," she says, and there's something tired in it, something that makes his stomach twist.

The silence stretches, broken only by the distant howl of wind through the pines. Natalie shifts, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. The leather creaks softly, worn thin from months of use. "She asked about you today," she says finally, her voice lower now, just for him.

Travis's jaw works, his fingers digging into his own arms. He looks away, toward the dark tree line where the snow has started falling again. "Tell her I'm busy," he grinds out.

With a sudden movement, Natalie stands, sending the branch clattering to the frozen ground. The fire jumps at the disturbance, casting wild shadows across her face. "Jesus, Travis," she breathes, her voice tight. "You gonna keep punishing all of us for this?"

He steps forward then, close enough that she has to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. The fire paints his face in harsh light and shadow, his breath coming quick. "Just you," he says, low and rough.

For a moment, neither moves. Natalie's throat works as she swallows, her lips parting like she might say something more. But then there's the crunch of snow underfoot, the sound of approaching footsteps, and they spring apart like they've been burned.

Natalie says, too quickly, forcing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Her hands flex at her sides. "Everything's peachy."

Travis is already turning away, his boots leaving deep prints in the snow as he stalks toward the trees. "Just leaving," he throws over his shoulder, voice flat.

Natalie watches him disappear into the darkness, her fingers curling into fists so tight her nails leave half-moon marks in her palms. The fire pops loudly, sending up one last shower of sparks that fade into nothing against the starless sky.