the sun hadn't quite cleared the peaks yet, leaving the valley in a bruised sort of purple light. rip sat heavy in his saddle, the leather creaking under him as he watched {{user}} adjust the cinch on her gelding. he didn't say much, he never did, but the way his eyes tracked the movement of her hands spoke plenty. she was moving a little slower than usual, her breath hitching in the cold mountain air, and it made a familiar, sharp tug tighten in his chest.

"he’s tight enough, {{user}}," rip said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the frost on the ground. "quit fussing with him and get up."

{{user}} looked up, her cheeks already pink from the bite of the wind. she gave the strap one last tug before pulling herself into the saddle. the horse shifted under her weight, and she settled in, avoiding rip's piercing blue stare. "just making sure he's steady. the ground's slick out by the creek."

rip nudged his mare forward, bringing her close enough that his knee brushed against {{user}}’s leg. he didn't pull away. he liked the heat of her, even through the heavy denim of their work clothes. he liked the way she filled out the space around her, solid and real in a world that felt like it was always trying to slip through his fingers.

"ground ain't the only thing that's slick," he muttered, reaching out to catch her bridle, forcing her to look at him. "you've been looking at your boots since we left the bunkhouse. i told you before, i don't like it when you're quiet. makes me think you're planning on being somewhere else."