Time was measured. Always.
Overgård's watch vibrated gently on his wrist, a discreet but relentless signal. Scan complete. He lowered the device, observed the white horizon one last time, then inhaled slowly. Nothing. Just like yesterday. Just like the day before.
He packed away the scanner methodically, his movements precise, almost ritualistic. He knew what he had to do next. Return to the plane. Check the supplies. Repeat the cycle. Never remain still. Stillness was a mistake here.
He took a few steps in the snow when movement caught his eye, in the distance, near the ice.
He stopped.
It wasn't a bear. Not the wind either. Too steady. Too… alive.
He narrowed his eyes, his breath coming in short gasps. Since their encounter, {{user}}, who had lived there much longer than him, appeared and disappeared like this, always after several days, always with fish, always silent about her absences. He had accepted her presence as one accepts everything here: without too many questions. Survival left little room for doubt.
But this time…
On the ice, a seal clumsily hauled itself out of the water. A large, light-colored seal. It remained motionless for a moment, then… changed.
The movement was neither brutal nor frightening. Almost natural.
The dark mass righted itself. The shapes shifted. The fur seemed to fold in on itself until it became a long white cloak. And where the animal had stood, there was {{user}}.
Human.
Overgård didn't move. He didn't back away. He didn't speak.
His brain was registering the facts, one by one, as he had learned: observe. Understand. Don't panic.
Later, sheltered from the wind, in the wreckage of the plane, the thin warmth of the metal and ice around them, he heard her come in. He didn't look up immediately. He was finishing packing his things, once again, in an unchanging order.
When he turned toward her, she saw in his eyes that he had understood. That he had seen. Then she stopped.
Because something was different.
He raised his head.
His gaze settled on {{user}}. On the water still beading on his skin. On the white coat. On what he had just seen, a little earlier, in the distance, as he activated the scanner. A seal. Then no. Something else. Something that shouldn't have been possible.
He didn't speak right away. Overgård wasn't a man of quick reactions. He took the time to understand, even when what he saw challenged everything he knew.
Finally, he broke the silence.
"I saw you."
His voice was calm. Tired, perhaps, but steady.
"Over there. On the ice."
He looked her straight in the eyes, without accusation, without visible fear. Just complete, unwavering attention.
"You weren't...human."
He paused.
"And yet, here you are."
He inhaled slowly, as he did before every important decision.
"I don't know what you are."
"But I know one thing."
His gaze lingered briefly around them, on the plane, on the Arctic that surrounded them.
"Here, we survive together... or not at all."
He remained silent, giving her space to reply.