By the time Averik left the breakfast table, Snow was waiting by the door.
She took up enough of the entry hall that calling it waiting felt generous. White shoulders nearly filled the space between the wall and the coat rack, her head high, icy-blue eyes following him whenever he moved. She had been ready since Evelyn brought her in from the yard.
Evelyn stood beside the door fastening the wrist of one glove. Her pale coat was already on, silver hair braided back from her face.
Averik looked at the coat, then at her. "You’re staying here."
Evelyn paused, but only for a moment. "You don’t want me with you today?"
"If you come, you’ll start fixing things before I get a proper look at what I’m doing." He pulled on his own gloves. "I want this to be me and Snow."
A small smile touched Evelyn’s mouth. "I can try not to interfere."
"You can try."
Her smile deepened. She knew exactly what he meant. If something moved wrong near him, Evelyn’s first instinct wasn’t to stand back and see whether he learned from it.
"All right," she said. "I’ll stay. I’d rather you brought her back before you decide this needs the whole day."
Averik glanced at Snow. The wolf’s ears shifted toward Evelyn, then back to him.
Averik reached for the latch. "No promises."
Evelyn gave him a look that held more fondness than complaint. "mm...Averik..."
Snow moved the instant Averik reached the door. No leash. No hesitation. The bond between them was already there, settled deeper than any rope could manage. When he stepped outside, she followed at his side and the cold hit them both.
The residential lane was quieter than the day before. Repairs had moved past the frantic first sweep. Broken shutters were gone from several doorways, and fresh boards covered windows that had been open to the cold yesterday. A man on a ladder hammered above a lintel while someone below swore at him for dropping wood shavings into his hair.
Snow looked once toward the noise and kept walking. Averik let her have the glance, then said, "Closer." She moved in until her shoulder tracked nearer his leg.
A little farther on, a woman came out of a doorway carrying a bucket of gray water. Snow had already started angling away from her. "Left." The wolf changed line at once.
Three streets later, Averik realized he was the problem.
He had corrected her before a cart passed, then again when two workers came around a corner carrying a long beam between them. Every order had been obeyed immediately. Every one had also taken a slice of his attention, and twice he’d spoken when Snow was already making the adjustment he wanted.
’Wasteful.’
He said nothing for the next block.
District 2 thickened around them as they neared one of the recovery corridors. The quiet hammering from the residential lanes gave way to wheels grinding over packed snow, boots scraping ice, men calling for space, and the sharper voices of people who had been working since before dawn. Bundles of salvaged cloth and timber were stacked against walls. A pair of workers dragged an empty handcart aside while another group carried wrapped supplies in the opposite direction.
Snow’s attention moved with the street. Her head turned before bodies crossed their path. Her pace shortened when the lane tightened and lengthened again when space opened. Once, a porter stumbled backward without looking; Snow shifted half a step before his shoulder could hit her flank, so cleanly the man never realized how close he had come to bouncing off her.
Averik almost told her to move back anyway, then stopped himself.
A man hauling a sack stared at Snow as they passed, then gave Averik a quick second look. Whatever conclusion he reached, it wasn’t interesting enough to hold him. He turned back to his work.
Averik liked that. He had no interest in teaching District 2 what had changed inside him.
Snow’s ears snapped forward.
Averik caught the change before he heard the source. A heartbeat later, sound separated itself from the corridor noise: uneven boots, someone breathing through clenched teeth, another voice telling people to clear the center.
Then the smell reached him. Blood under cold cloth. Sweat. Metal.
A returning group appeared beyond a knot of workers. Two of them were helping wounded companions on foot, arms hooked across shoulders. One man’s trouser leg had gone dark from thigh to boot despite the wrapping around it. Another kept one arm folded hard against his ribs while the woman beside him carried part of his weight.
People began squeezing toward the walls. Snow stepped outward, not away from Averik but into the angle the returning group would take if they drifted too close. Protective, and useful, except her body now took up too much of what remained of the lane.
"Wall side. With me."
Snow moved instantly, folding in beside him without lowering her attention. Her huge white body turned through the narrowing space with none of the clumsy shuffling her size should have demanded. The wounded group passed close enough that Averik could hear one man’s teeth click when his bad leg struck the ground.
Snow watched them go. Averik gave no second order.
They kept moving with the same noise pressing around them. Averik let a supply cart cross ahead. Snow slowed with him. A pair of workers cut between them and a doorway; she held her place instead of following the gap. When the corridor widened again, she adjusted without crowding him.
For the next stretch, Averik let Snow work without filling the street with his voice. Then he tried the bond instead, sending one simple intent: ’stay tucked close on the wall side and leave the center open.’
Snow’s ear flicked toward him. Her position changed by less than a step, enough to settle where he wanted her, and her attention returned to the street.
Averik kept walking. A boy carrying a bundle of split boards froze when he saw Snow coming. Averik didn’t slow. Snow shifted inward before the boy decided which way to move. The boy hurried past, eyes fixed on her teeth rather than on Averik.
Farther on, two men in stained field coats were arguing over where to take a damaged pack. One glanced at Snow, then at Averik, and dismissed both almost immediately.
That suited him even better. If they were going to dismiss him, he saw no reason to correct them.
By the time he turned them back toward home, the recovery corridor had grown busier, but he was speaking to Snow less than he had on the way in.
They took the reverse route home without incident. Snow’s pace never flagged. Neither did Averik’s. The cold had reddened the faces of several workers they passed, but it barely registered beyond the air against his skin.
Evelyn opened the inner door before he reached for it.
Her eyes moved over him first, then Snow, quick and practiced. "Did you get what you wanted from the walk?"
"Enough." Averik stepped inside. Snow came with him and shook loose powder from her coat once they were clear of the doorway. "I was giving her orders she didn’t need."
Evelyn took in Snow’s relaxed posture, then looked back at him. "And she was fine?"
"She did what I told her every time."
"I’m sure she did." Evelyn’s mouth curved, gentle rather than challenging. "Averik...I was asking about you. Did you figure out what was off?"
He pulled off one glove. "I found out I was wasting attention."
Evelyn reached for the damp edge of his coat sleeve, brushing off a crust of snow with her thumb. "That sounds more useful."
Averik caught her wrist before she could pull her hand away and drew her half a step closer. "You’re enjoying this."
"Mm...A little." Evelyn didn’t bother hiding it. Her eyes warmed. "You don’t often come home and admit you spent effort where you didn’t need to."
His fingers tightened lightly around her wrist. "Careful."
She smiled. "Yes...Averik."
Snow crossed behind them and settled near the wall, breathing out slowly while her alert eyes kept tracking the room.
Three hard knocks struck the outer gate.
Evelyn’s expression changed first. The softness remained, but her attention sharpened toward the sound.
Averik released her wrist. "Stay with Snow."
"All right. Call me if you want me there."
He went back outside. The man waiting beyond the gate wore field clothes Averik recognized from the fortress units, dark fabric scuffed white at the knees and shoulders from old snow. Shadows sat under his eyes, and his gloved hands kept rubbing together against the cold.
The man looked up. "Averik?"
Averik stopped just inside the gate. "You found him."
The man nodded once. "Unit 2. Corvin sent me."
Corvin’s name brought Roderic’s warning back into focus. Averik kept his face still. "What does he want?"
"Talk to you tomorrow." The man tucked his hands under his arms. "That’s all I was told to pass on."
The message gave him no motive. Refusing before he knew why Corvin wanted him would gain nothing.
Averik rested one hand on the gate. "Tell him I’ll hear him."
"Got it." The messenger turned away almost immediately, already looking toward the next street as if this were one errand among several.
Averik watched him until he reached the corner, then closed the gate.
Evelyn was waiting just inside the house when he returned. She didn’t crowd him with questions. "Corvin?"
Averik shut the door behind him. "He wants to talk tomorrow."
Her gaze held his. "Do you want me with you?"
This time Averik didn’t need to think about it. "You’re coming."
Evelyn gave a small, satisfied nod and fell into step beside him as he went back inside.