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Snow was falling again — the kind that came down soft but thick enough to swallow every sound. It settled on the trees, on the torn fabric of Eugene’s jacket, and on George’s shoulders as he crouched beside him in the half-light.
They’d been walking for hours after the ambush, following what Luz hoped was the right direction. The woods all looked the same now — white and gray, shadows blending together.
Eugene was slumped against a tree, breath shallow, one hand pressed against his side. The blood had stopped seeping through his fingers a while ago, which Luz wasn’t sure was good or bad.
“Hey,” George said, trying for lightness, voice cracking halfway through. “Don’t fall asleep on me, Doc. I can’t carry you and my sparkling personality all the way back.”
Roe’s eyes fluttered open, dark and heavy with fatigue. “You talk too much,” he murmured.
“Yeah, well, somebody’s gotta keep the conversation going.” George tried to grin but it felt wrong — too sharp around the edges. He adjusted Eugene’s scarf, tucking it closer to his neck. “You’re freezing.”
“So are you.”
“Yeah, but I look better doing it.”
For a second, a ghost of a smile flickered across Roe’s face. Luz clung to it like a lifeline.
—
They tried to move again, but Roe could only take a few steps before his knees buckled. Luz caught him, both of them sinking to the snow.
“Easy, easy— you’re okay, I got you.”
Eugene’s head rested against George’s shoulder, his breath a faint mist against the collar of Luz’s coat. He was trembling, but still, somehow, calm — the same way he always was when patching up someone else.
Luz wished he’d say something, anything, just to keep the air moving between them.
Instead, Roe whispered, “You need to go.”
Luz froze. “You’re outta your mind if you think I’m leaving.”
“You’ll get lost out here.”
“I’m already lost,” he said, a quiet laugh catching in his throat. “And I’m not about to lose you too, you hear me?”
—
They stayed there a long while — long enough that the snow started to cover the footprints they’d left behind. Luz held him close, rubbing his arm through the fabric, murmuring nonsense just to fill the silence. He talked about the guys, about the mess hall, about the stupid song that kept getting stuck in his head.
Roe’s responses came slower and softer until they weren’t words anymore — just faint hums, the rhythm of breath that Luz kept matching with his own.
When it grew quiet, Luz didn’t notice at first. He was still talking, still holding, still promising.
“We’ll make it home, Gene. You and me. Just gotta keep walkin’.”
But Roe didn’t answer.
And the woods stayed still.
—
Later — Luz didn’t know how much later — he pressed his forehead to Roe’s hair, the cold biting through his gloves as he whispered, “You did enough, okay? You did so much.” His voice broke somewhere in the middle.
He stayed there, the snow piling up around them, until the horizon began to pale — dawn creeping through the trees.
When he finally stood, he didn’t look back. He couldn’t. But the promise slipped out again, soft and cracked:
“I’ll find my way home. For you.”
The snow fell heavier, swallowing his footprints almost as fast as he made them.