“You're bleeding,” Ren said, voice loud in the silence.

“It's not mine,” Anik said softly, eyes downcast.

“You fought the refugees.”

“I had to.”

They both fell silent. Ren couldn't read Anik's face.

Ren watched as Anik raised his hand, fingertips grazing the dip of his throat. With a sigh, he shrugged the coat off his shoulders, tugged on the strings of his shirt, and pulled it over his head. He trembled visibly in the cold, his bare torso exposed to the chilly breeze.

“It's cold here,” Anik complained, sorting through his bag to find the woollen shirt Ren had bought for him in Isleya. The fabric was thicker, better suited to the cold.

“It's the North,” Ren said gently, a slight smile tugging on the corners of his lips. His eyes lingered on the scar on Anik's shoulder. It seemed to stand out even more clearly in this lighting. Ren's view was obscured when Anik pulled the clean shirt over his head and wrapped the coat back around himself, tugging the arms of his shirt through the sleeves.

“What happened to your shoulder?”

Anik averted his gaze, rolling his jaw. “Halvard.”

Ren waited for him to say more, but he didn't. Shrugging, he continued. “What about the necklace?”

Anik's head came up, his eyes narrowing slightly as they bored into Ren's, gleaming liquid gold in the glow of the embers. A strange emotion flitted over his face. “What do you mean?”

“You keep reaching for something that isn't there,” Ren explained, raising his hand to the dip of his own throat to copy the gesture.

Anik's brow creased slightly as he held Ren's gaze, and Ren waited for him to snap at him or declare that it was none of his business. Anik did neither. “It was a horseshoe,” he said. “My mother gave it to me.”

This time, it was Ren's turn to stare. This was unlike Anik. He never gave anything away about himself. Ren felt his curiosity grow. It was a ridiculous thing to be excited about, but Anik's walls of privacy were so high and impenetrable that even this slight glimpse into what was beyond them made Ren itch for more. Now that Anik was actually answering his questions with something other than death glares, he wanted as much as he could get before that tiny crack snapped closed once more. “Where is she?”

“She's dead,” Anik said, his expression unchanging. “My whole family is.” Reaching out, he carefully pushed the remaining embers closer together with a stick, then dropped the stick on top. After a moment, tiny flames licked at the wood.

“I'm sorry,” Ren said. “I know how that feels.”