He nodded towards the window, where a faint smear of snow pressed against the glass like a pale, persistent hand.

“You dream of a selfish, solitary fire that keeps in its silence.”

He let that hang in the air between them, then barked out a laugh, a hearty, full sound that bounced around the small room and made the shadows jump.

“Only you, mate,” Dave said, shaking his head. “Only you could live in a place like this and still manage to find a cold fire to obsess over.”

James tried to smile, but it came out thin. Dave’s laughter faded into a fond grin, but his eyes were still studying James with that slight, searching furrow.

The thing was, James wanted to laugh, too. He wanted it to be nothing more than a strange dream in a long winter, something to joke about when the thaw finally came and the roads turned to slush and the river remembered how to move.

He gazed at the smear of snow until it started to glow, and realised he was gazing at the full moon. Under the warmth of the hearth, under the easy banter and the familiar creak of the lodge, the dream sat quietly in his chest like an unlit coal.

Not dead.

Not yet burning.

Waiting.

A knock came at the door just then.

“Dave, sir. We’ve captured a stray. She claims she’s working under the orders of the Emperor– but you know the situation at hand. She’s being held at the Keep. She was armed, and also had this”

The soldier held out a scroll.

Dave gave it a glance and looked on over at James.

“James, mate. C’mon, get dressed.”