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It’s late afternoon when she finds him standing high on his hill, looking down across the waves below, his pack at his side, unmoving. Like always.
"They’ve come back for us," she says, though she knows it doesn’t matter.
He could always leave.
"For you," he corrects her, because he’s no one’s cause, no one’s reason.
The distance dissolves between them, her lips at his salty throat, a need she never expected.
He was a pawn.
"Come with me?" The words are hollow because she knows he won’t, his eyes cast ever seaward, waiting for something else.
But not this.