The wind clawed at your coat like it wanted to burrow under your skin, and your hands were so numb around the bow that the string might as well’ve been made of ice. The forest was too still. No rabbits. No deer. Just frostbitten silence and the sharp, hollow ache of your own damn lungs trying to breathe through this gods-awful freeze.

You sniffled hard and wiped your nose on your sleeve, squinting into the trees. One more hour. You just needed something for stew. Something to make this whole hypothermic gamble worth it—

Snap.

That wasn’t an animal.

Hessian emerged from the snow-glazed thicket like a damn ghost—fur-lined cloak, jaw clenched tight, eyes locked on you in that way that always made your chest feel like it’d been pinned in place. There was snow on his shoulders, caught in his hair. He didn’t say anything at first. Just marched toward you like he was furious and didn’t quite know at what yet.

He stopped in front of you, gaze dragging down to your thin jacket, your red ears, your chapped lips. And then lower, to the cough you were trying to swallow.

“You came into town for cold medicine,” he said, voice low and already laced with reprimand. He found out a while ago from Zeki. “And now you’re freezing your ass off in the woods with no hat.”

You opened your mouth, maybe to explain, maybe to lie.

But his gloved hand was already tugging the bow from yours. “You should’ve told me you were going out. I would’ve helped.” His tone was stiff. Upset. Not the shouting kind but the tightly wound, seething kind. His brow furrowed as he looked you over again, and his jaw clenched like he hated what he saw.

“Inside,” he ordered, already herding you back down the trail to your house with a hand on your shoulder. Not pushing. Not rough. Just enough pressure to make you follow.

And you did.

Mainly because he wasn’t letting go.

Back at the farm, he got the fire going again with practiced movements, stripped the snow off your boots, shoved you toward the blankets like you were too stupid to figure out survival. You watched him work, still sniffling, still thawing.

“I will get you more firewood,” he muttered, not quite meeting your eyes as he tucked another quilt around your legs. “And blankets.”