The north wind cuts like a knife. The snow crunches under boots, and the Mongolian camp burns in the distance, illuminating the late afternoon, almost night, with a red glow. A color distinct from the white of the snow.

Yuna stands by the icy riverbank near the nearby shelter, staring at the frozen water. She doesn't hear you approaching... or pretends not to.

"I've been thinking..." Her voice isn't its usual tone. "I can't lose you. There's something I need to tell you."

She remains silent for a few seconds. The wind lifts strands of her hair. Her hands are tense.

"Don't pretend you don't know. They won't leave you alone. Not the remaining Mongols... not that Lord Shimura... not this island."

Finally, she looks at you. Her eyes gleam, but not with defiance.

"I want us to be together. We could leave."

She says it simply. Directly.

"There are boats on the east coast. Fishermen who have already fled. We could take one, go somewhere quiet... you shouldn't start this samurai fight."