The following day, Arn felt clear-minded and well-rested - nearly back to his usual self. The ranger woman wasn't there when he woke up, which turned out to be a blessing since he found himself naked when he looked below the covers. Well, he still wore underpants - thankfully - but that was it.

Arn looked around, straining to hear any noise - all was quiet; a musty, smoky aroma hung in the still air. Finally, he spotted his pants and shirt on a nearby chair - warmth radiated through his cheeks. If he could just reach the clothes and put them on - Arn held up the blanket and started getting up. A creak made him jump, and he huddled back under the covers.

The ranger walked in through the front door; a gust of crisp forest air blew in after her. It carried the scent of pines and winter but was soon cut off when the door closed.

"Awake again?" she said, not looking in his direction as she took off her coat and boots.

"Yes," he held up the blanket.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm - my clothes," he glanced at the chair with his clothes.

"Oh," she snorted. "Had to smear some crushed Pyneor - or, Fireweed as you might know it - all over you. I strongly suggest you don't nap outside in the winter. It doesn't end well."

Arn reddened further and decided that it would have been better that he didn't know. "You undressed me!" he half-whispered.

"Well, it wouldn't work if I put it on your clothes!"

Arn didn't quite know what he wished to say. He realized that she was right, but the thought of being undressed in his sleep made him deeply uncomfortable. His face grew warm again.

"You quit passing out in the snow," she continued, "and no one will undress you because you won't need life-saving medicine on your body - is that something you can live with?"

"Yes."

"That was rhetorical - well, maybe it didn't quite sound rhetorical. I'll give you that one," the ranger said and went about her business at the worktable. Arn watched her work for a time, he thought of ways to broach the matter of his clothes, but nothing quite sounded correct. She finally turned.

"Why are you staring at my back - it was my back, right?" she teased.

At that, Arn turned bright red - again. "No! I mean, yes, of course - my clothes..." he looked at the chair.

The ranger made a show of an exaggerated sigh, turned around and reassured him that she wouldn't look. He gathered his courage then quickly leapt for the clothes. They dried by now, and as soon as he was dressed, his heart slowed and face cooled to its markedly less red complexion.

"Done?" she asked.

"Yes."

"We're going to have tea, and you're going to tell me exactly what happened," she said.

Arn knew that sooner or later, he'd have no choice. What could he tell her? Certainly nothing of what his father did. Would she believe it? Would she believe that an avalanche separated them, blocked his path, forced him to leave the trail? He'll find out soon enough, he supposed.

The ranger brought a teapot to a small wooden table next to him. She shoved off the junk that littered it - at least it looked like junk by the way she disposed of it. The aroma this time was pleasant and refreshing. She handed him a cup and sipped her own, waiting for him to begin.

Arn focused on his tea as long as he dared.

"There was an avalanche. My father and I were separated. I didn't want to go back to Ar'Thorsan, so I tried to find a way around; to find my father. But tt got dark; I got lost."

"Avalanche," she said, then sipped her tea. "Avalanche, avalanche. You were with your father?"

"Yes, and we got separated," Arn replied.

"Anyone else?" she pressed him.

"No - well, yes, a family with two kids. They ran just before the avalanche hit."

"But you and your father waited 'till the last moment?" she said and arched an eyebrow.

"No, no, we didn't wait. It just happened. They ran, but we were just behind, and it hit."

"You managed to survive the avalanche," she said, took her time sipping more tea, then continued, "what about your father, the other family?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? But you still went after him?"

"Yes! Wouldn't you?" he exclaimed, irritation seeping into his voice.

"I would have looked for them if I were you."

"There was a lot of snow, and I did look for him - but it didn't work out."

The ranger eyed Arn, and for the second time, he had the suspicion that she didn't believe him. "Where were you headed?" she finally asked.

"Tower of Het, at the northern end of the pass."

"And after that?" she pressed.

"I don't know." It was getting more difficult to evade her questions, but Arn still tried to keep as much as he could out of his answers.

"Look, kid, I am doing my best to give you time and space, but you need to come clean here. I don't know you, and while may be young, you're not a child," she said with a serious look on her face.

"We went to Naradael."

She whistled. "The capital of Nedreal?"

"Yes," Arn agreed reluctantly.

"What did you forget there?"

"It doesn't matter. Just tell me how to get to the Tower of Het -"

"Hold on there; we're not done," she cut him off.

"Why?"

She shook her head, put down her cup and stood up. "You're in the middle of a forest in the winter, and you just barely survived the same thing you want to do again?"

"I don't have a choice. I have to get there!" Arn protested.

"Look here, you little - " she narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. "I'm not trying to keep you here. Don't mistake this for anything," the ranger waved her hand in the air "anything, I don't know what your frost-bitten brain will think up. It's my job to keep you alive until you're out of my area - got it?"

Arn sensed the familiar slow burn of anger building up. It came somewhat as a surprise because he knew that she was just doing her job - more than that, she saved his life. And yet, Arn was irritated - the way she spoke, he felt disrespected, perhaps that's what it was. Arn forced his thoughts and anger down.

"What aren't we done with?" he asked.

"What?" she said.

"You said we weren't done, so what aren't we done with?" he clarified.

The ranger scoffed, "you need supplies, a map, food. You've rested well enough, I judge," she looked him up and down.

"I'll take whatever supplies you'll give me."

"Then you'll go with very little because I won't give you much," she replied and crossed her arms.

"So what am I supposed to do!?" he nearly shouted.

"I don't need your little outbursts!" she shot back. "Keep it down, you understand?"

Arn nodded.

"What was that? Do you understand?"

"Yes!"

She nodded, "tomorrow, we'll begin gathering your supplies. I have bare necessities here that I can spare, but much will need to be gathered. You will do it, and I will watch. Do you understand our relationship?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now get up and start helping me with dinner."

"What?" Arn was caught off guard.

"Up!" she motioned him towards a large table in the part of the hall that he didn't see earlier. There were pots, pans, and vegetables on it. The ranger had him wash the food, then boil the water and watch the stew.

She cut the vegetables herself. The dinner turned out better than Arn hoped. After the food eased both of their nerves, they spoke more softly.

He was grateful to her, and if not for the events that lead to all this, well, he'd be more grateful. But, as things stood, he simply couldn't focus on anything aside from the avalanche and what his father did.

"I know you didn't tell me everything," she said, startling Arn. "But, I will help you anyway. I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt and what I want in return is that you give it to someone else who deserves it."

This surprised Arn. He looked at her and suddenly saw more than the tough ranger he initially took her for. Instead, he saw a caring woman who may have been alone for a long time but still helped a complete stranger who nearly died by his own fault.

"Thank you, I will," he said.