She busies herself with building a fire in the middle of this small clearing, and lets him sit and rest. She does not ask his thoughts. In these moments, he should be allowed to keep them to himself.

(He looks weary, the White Wolf, even though he has only lately come from cryostasis. This weight has been too heavy on him for too long.)

The fire crackles, joining the soft sounds of the night around them. This place is peaceful. The night is calm. She is glad to offer him these things, but like everything in this world, it cannot last.

"It is time," she tells him. Her voice is quiet and kind – but firm. There is no point in waiting longer.