Without shifting his gaze he nods, exhaustion hitting all of a sudden now that he's no longer on the move, now that the pain's receded. He thinks of asking what it's like—the airfield—but even with her here and a plan between them he can't picture himself there. It'd be like asking her about Disneyland.

“He was following me a while. Making noises in the night. Left me a rabbit, every limb snapped. Message”—his fingers drift in front of his forehead—“carved into it. I, ah, I think that was two days back? Couldn't swear to it. He starts that up again—I can't lead him back there, you know.”