Ren Frost's Arc

Chapter 4 of 13

Jason worked at the cave mouth without asking what Ren needed. He raised posts. He nailed crossbeams. By dawn a sturdy wooden frame stretched from the rock, a small roof angled to throw the snow. Ren passed him boards in silence. He took them in silence. The fox kit watched from a kennel, eyes bright. Inside, Jason hung a lamp from a spike he drove into the stone. The flame caught. Warm light spilled across straw and fur and the cold gray walls. Sixty animals shifted in the new glow. Ren saw her own hands shaking and tucked them under her arms. They kept working. Jason swept a corner clear for feed bins. His boot caught on something small. He bent and picked it up. A locket, the chain snapped, the clasp packed with old dirt. He opened it. A girl's face looked back. A date was scratched inside the lid. He held it out on his palm. He did not ask. Ren stared at it a long moment. "My sister," she said. "I was supposed to be watching her." Her voice stayed level. "I build alone because I already lost someone I built a life around." Jason closed his hand around the locket. He set it gently on a flat stone near the lamp, where she could reach it. "You didn't lose her because you looked away," he said. "You looked away because you're human." He picked up his hammer. "I'm still here." Ren did not answer. She picked up a board and held the end while he drove the nail. The wall grew between them, post by post. Something in her chest loosened that she had kept locked for years. She did not say thank you. She handed him the next board. That was the answer.