I watch the horizon as often as I can. Izzy says it's pointless, and Seth says we'll probably have to move on soon, but I refuse to give up hope.

I did that once before, and it nearly broke me apart. No, hope is all I have left of them. Of him. I have to just believe he'll come back to me, and maybe, maybe he will.

I lost my calendar back in Finley, so I have no idea how long it's been since we were separated. But it feels like an eternity.

Seth says it's probably been close to a month, and Izzy agrees. They seem to have become numb to the loss of the others. But Mara cries herself to sleep at night.

I've grown tired of crying, but there's still this horrible aching in my chest that keeps me watching the horizon every chance I get.

Seth's dark hair reaches his shoulders now, so I know he's probably right about how much time has passed. Izzy keeps chopping her raven curls off as best she can with a knife, but Seth won't let her near him with it.

Mara braids my hair. She told me it's therapeutic, and it is relaxing, because I'm able to focus on the way her fingers run through my hair, lightly touching my skull sometimes, instead of the way I feel so...empty.

It's snowing again today. I watch the flakes drifting lazily down to earth as I sit on the front steps of the small house we're taking shelter in. Mara is braiding my hair for the third time since this morning.

Seth and Hudson are off hunting. Seth decided we could use another ally, despite Izzy's protests. She doesn't trust Hudson. Neither do I, really, despite the fact that he hasn't done anything suspicious. We both made a silent agreement to keep an eye on him.

Mara gently parts my brown hair down the middle, laying one half over my shoulder before beginning to run her fingers through the other half.

Izzy is somewhere in the house, probably sleeping. She's still as moody as ever, and as eager to argue with Seth as she ever was. I've had to break up several disagreements between the two of them that have come so close to blows. Hudson still watches these insane exchanges with alarm; Mara usually leaves before they really get going.

The quiet here is refreshing, after the seemingly constant noise of Finley. But, unfortunately, it yields little distraction from the absence of them. Of him.

I watch the distant tree line, just willing for him and the others to come walking out into the meadow, across the dusting of snow, and never leave again.

I can't bring myself to say their names, his name, anymore. I can't even think his name or it feels like a knife is being driven through my heart. It seems, since he's been gone, my feelings for him have deepened. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder, I suppose. And it's such a cruel thing.

There's a part of me that tries to resign itself to the fact that they could never come back. But I just can't bring myself to do it. So I just have to keep hoping, even if it means that I'll be hoping forever.

I'm afraid to confide in Mara about it. I know she misses them, even more than me, and I don't want to upset her. It's harder on her, because of...things.

We ate our last rabbit today. Seth said that it shouldn't be too hard to find some more, but it's so cold, I'm not so sure.

Mara's hands shake as she begins to braid my hair. Her fingers are freezing as they brush my neck, slowly, meticulously folding the strands together.

"Why don't we go inside and finish by the fire?" I ask. I'm bundled up warmly, but she always takes her gloves off to braid my hair.

"Okay," she replies, and I hear her boots scrape the wooden porch as she stands.

I stand up and watch her walking into the house with that awkward limp of hers, her pale hair messily trailing down her back. She is swallowed up by the many layers she wears, making her look incredibly fragile. She's not much shorter than me, or much skinnier, but, I guess because of her gentle personality, I feel she is so breakable, and since...they are gone, I feel like it's my job to take care of her.

I follow her inside, and there we find Izzy wrapped in a blanket, huddled by the fireplace, where a small but warm fire crackles.

"Ah, it appears I have company," she grumbles as we sit beside her.

Mara doesn't say a word, but simply resumes braiding my hair. Izzy hugs her knees to her chest, resting her chin upon them.

"When do you think Seth and Hudson will be back?" She asks no one in particular, "I still don't understand why I couldn't go, too."

"You had to stay here and help me guard the house," I tell her, stretching my feet out to the flames.

Izzy groans. "I feel like I'm babysitting."

I roll my eyes. "Izzy-"

But she quickly stands up and walks away before I can even begin to scold her. I hear her settle into the creaky old chair by the window. I sit there a lot, watching the tree line, just hoping.

A moment later, Mara has finished with my hair, and says she's going to take a nap. She usually does in the mid afternoon.

She leaves me, the absence of her presence leaving a cold chill on my back, and I watch the flames as they dance cheerfully. Only they don't cheer me up. Hardly anything does these days.

+++++

The room around me has grown darker as evening approaches. All is quiet, even Izzy, surprisingly.

But footsteps crunching through the snow soon interrupt the silence, and Izzy throws off her blanket, drawing her katana and flying to the door, hiding behind the doorframe, readying to defend the place if she has to.

I finger my Glock's grip as it sticks out of my boot, and watch the door in anticipation. Most likely, it's just Seth and Hudson returning, hopefully with something to eat, but it could be someone else. Someone dangerous.

Or him.

The footsteps clamor onto the porch, stomping the snow off, and then the doorknob is turned and the door creaks open.

Seth and Hudson enter the room just as Izzy leaps out of her hiding place, wielding her katana. Hudson gasps, backing onto the porch, while Seth drops the two dead rabbits he was carrying to grab Izzy's arms so she won't slice his head in half.

"Is that really how you're gonna thank me for feeding you?" He snaps, letting go of her and bending down to retrieve the rabbits.

"How was I supposed know it was you?" She retorts irritably, replacing her katana in her belt.

Hudson peers around the door warily. Seth rolls his eyes and brings the rabbits over to the fireplace. Izzy returns to the chair by the window.

I watch as Seth pulls out a knife and begins slicing open one of the rabbits, but turn away with its insides start spilling out. Hudson finally comes inside, closing the door behind him.

"Not many animals out today," Seth tells me, concentrating on gutting the rabbit.

"I think you did okay," I say, "two rabbits are better than nothing."

"But they're skinny," Seth says, looking up at me, "I feel like I could do better. I know if Doyle were here he...."

He trails off as he sees me tense up. "Sorry. I know how you don't like us saying their names."

I shake my head. "It-it's fine." The knife is buried deep in my chest.

Izzy scoffs from across the room. "I still think that's a silly thing to do. I should be able to mention Doyle - and Pirate - by name if I want to. Even Rogan, who I hate."

I flinch at the sound of his name again, and Seth turns on Izzy immediately. "Izzy, will you just shut up?"

"Why should I?" She demands, "what's wrong with talking about them?"

Seth starts to say something, but I clear my throat, signaling him to let it go, and fortunately he takes the hint.

Silence falls again, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the sound of Seth ripping the rabbit's meat from it's bone.

I stare into the flames, and all I can see is his face.

**

Okay, sorry for the late update, but a relative passed away and things have been beyond hectic and awful because of that. I don't know when it'll calm down again, but hopefully soon.