He moved past her towards the fireplace. He was looking for something. Calling. A desperation in his voice. It sounded like a name. Hassan? Hussein? Perhaps. The name didn’t come from his mouth, but from somewhere else. Somewhere deeper. It echoed within him. Over and over he asked. Until his body was merely a vessel. He took the blankets from the chairs and scattered them on the floor. The name filled every part of him until, eventually, his voice grew weaker. At last, he was silent. She watched him stand, his shoulders sunken, his chest concave. Exhausted. His hands empty. She waited. Then, slowly, she approached him, slid her hand into his. Felt his senses registering her. He was cold. She pulled him gently, guided him back towards his rest.

Nefyn watched over him in the dark. Waited for his breathing to settle. It had been warmer the last few days, and the air had slid on to the sea, condensing into a thick fog. The world would not be visible in the morning. It was unlike the fogs that formed over land, thin and fickle, moved on by winds. This fog was heavy, lipid almost, stuck to the insides of the lungs, clung damply to clothes. It smothered sounds, made you seek deeper breaths.

Hamza woke before dawn. Not a physical awakening but a return to the self. As consciousness slid back into his eyes, she brought him black tea, with plenty of sugar. His body ached, his throat. She left him to drink and started to relight the fire. It wasn’t dawn yet, though some of the birds were trying to mark their presence through the fog. He watched the steam from his mug curling into the cold air. Shakily, he walked barefoot towards her. Sat by the hearth. She was offering a lit match to the expired tinder, waiting for it to catch hold once again.

‘My throat is sore,’ he said at last. Nefyn smiled, replaced the matches. Piled some dry wood on to the flame. Blew on it to strengthen it.

‘You were calling for someone – Hussein?’ she said gently. Hamza looked at her in confusion. ‘In your sleep.’ She placed her hands around her legs. Rested her chin on her knees. Waited for the fire to take hold.

‘I’m sorry, I …’

‘There’s no need.’