Thomas shrugged on an old youth camp parka, a thick fur overcoat going on top. His thin figure was dwarfed by the voluminous fur, as white as the snow outside. Strapping it securely around himself, he then picked up a thick staff leaning near the exit and involuntarily patted his waist, as if making sure his utility belt was still there.

"Where are you going?" Amy asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I need to talk with the local nomads," Thomas said, looking up at her. "The Ju'ota. They...uh, well, they've helped me survive out here. How to hunt, and stuff, and they show me how to heat the lodge." He gestured to the stove, almost lamely.

"So, what were you back at the youth camp? A hunter or something? Border guard?"

Thomas gave her a startled look, then a sheepish grin. "Actually, I was a teacher's assistant for the elementary kids." Then he turned and pushed open the door. Amy shivered at the blast of wind that made it into the lodge before he stepped outside and shoved the door closed.

Teacher's assistant?

Amy tried to visualize the school lodge at the youth camp, but still couldn't place Thomas as having been there at all. Then again, she didn't spend much time in the elementary end of the school lodge. When she finished the required hours on the secondary books, she always headed over to the tech lodge to put in her hours taking care of the camp's systems and filing reports. And Jeffrey, he was the same. After the schooling timeslot was completed for the day, he made a beeline for his job in maintenance and construction. Afterwards, they always met up with Dana to unwind.

No Thomas. He didn't appear in her memories at all, not even as a face in the crowd.

Up until a year ago, Thomas 1276 worked in a building I spent several hours in, every day. And I never noticed him.

How oblivious could I have been?

Rubbing her arms uncertainly, Amy glanced around the small lodge as she stepped across to the small stove. Near the door, hanging from a crude hook, was her parka, besides a formless, thick fur. She knelt in front of the stove as she glanced at it, holding out her hands to the delicious waves of heat emanating from it.

Where she had woken up was a thick pile of furs and one pakka wool blanket. Amy resisted the urge to dive into the furs and draw the pakka wool blanket up to her face, to feel its characteristic softness. She had only held pakka wool once before, when Dana had traded for some on the down low with some coins she had snitched from the administration lounge. She was the only one Amy had known to trade with a nomad.

Near the stove was a smooth, flat stone, probably what Thomas used to prepare food. Next to that was a small chest, crafted neatly out of hide. Curious, Amy moved over to it and knelt down, gently feeling at the flat lid. Her hands slid across the worked leather hide, and she carefully undid the slight leather thongs holding it closed.

Opening the lid, Amy noticed the thin bone struts, arcing across the lid and holding the hide taut around the corners of the chest. All in all, it was beautiful workmanship, something she'd never have seen in a million years at the youth camp. The lodges may not have been the prefab structures used for processing eighteen year olds at the Future Draft, but they were also nowhere near to those said to be constructed by the nomadic tribes. They were big, solid, hulking structures, marring the white landscape, warmed by multiple heating units spread all down its length. Everything in them was exported from within the Biodome. But this chest – it was made from leather and bone, a nomad creation.

Amy shifted her eyes from the workmanship of the chest to what lay inside. At the bottom was something wrapped in a piece of scarred leather. Picking it up, she drew back the leather to reveal a dagger, the blade glinting dully in the light.

Furrowing her brow, Amy turned the dagger over in her hand. The hilt was old and padded with leather, worn smooth by much use. The blade was thick, the back edge wider and narrowing down to the thin cutting edge, leading into a sharp, pronounced tip. She couldn't tell if it was nomadic or Biodome-made.

She sat back on her heels, contemplating the dagger. Running her finger down the edge, she tested its sharpness and was surprised to find it draw blood. She cursed softly as she gazed at the small cut in her fingertip before wiping the blood off on her trousers. The blade itself held many scratches, especially by the edge, but the edge itself wasn't turned or dulled by whatever had done the scratching.

Amy didn't know how long she sat there, gazing at the scratches crisscrossing the blade of the knife that were somehow fascinating, tracing her finger across the smooth leather of the hilt, but she started when the door was shoved open and a blast of icy wind struck her back. Turning, she saw the bundled up figure of Thomas push into the lodge, struggling to close the door behind him. Eventually, he did get it shut and barricaded in place before unwrapping the furs from around his face and stripping off his gloves.

"It's cold out there," he muttered, clapping his hands against his body before shedding his fur coat, shaking off the snow and hanging it beside Amy's parka. Then he slid off his own parka, revealing the black thermosuit he'd been wearing earlier. "Even with this blasted suit on."

Thomas turned to face Amy and within a moment the blood had drained from his face. The parka dropped from his hand and he went to take a step toward her, then froze with his foot in midair. Within a moment, he'd jumped backwards, arms raised and fingers curled into fists.

Amy furrowed her brow at him, spooked by how frightened he looked. "What?"

Thomas opened his mouth, swallowed, then tried to speak again. "What are you doing?"

Amy glanced over and saw the leather chest, its lid still hanging open. "Oh, um, sorry," she rushed. "I kinda looked inside. Curiosity killed the cat, I guess." She winced at the choice of words; so did Thomas.

"Why is the knife in your hand?" he asked, gesturing to the weapon. Amy's gaze fell on it. She'd almost forgotten she had been holding it.

"I was just looking at it. No harm, right? I'll just put it back."

"Yes, please do that," Thomas said, exhaling. "Quickly, carefully. Close the lid when you're done."

Bewildered, Amy placed the knife at the bottom of the chest, shutting the leather lid and blocking it from view. Thomas nearly leaped toward her, nudging the chest back away from her as she stood, thoroughly puzzled about his reaction. "What the hell was that about?"

"That's my knife," Thomas said emphatically, glaring at the chest with such loathing.

"Yeah, I got that."

"And you don't touch it."

"Okay, but –"

"Amy. Don't. Touch. The. Knife. Ever."

Amy raised her hands defensively. "All right, all right, I won't!" She met Thomas' freaked gaze and realized this was the closest she had been to him since he had kidnapped her. Up close, he was just a smidgeon taller than she was, his build wiry and athletic. How he could kill her, she had no clue. He didn't look like a killer.

But he is. Or, well, he will be, I guess.

It was like everything came cascading down onto her shoulders at once. Her condemning file, Thomas showing up like her attempt to change her future summoned him, Jeffrey's determination to help her change her fate, no matter what the consequences would be for him....

Oh, no. Jeffrey! The guards, they saw him with me and Thomas in the computer room. Did he get in trouble? Is he okay? Did...did they deny him entrance to the Biodome on my account?

Overwhelmed, Amy turned away from Thomas, struggling to keep her breathing under control. I'm such a bad friend. I'm such a bad friend. Here am I, alive, away from the Biodome, and Jeffrey's getting punished, is dying, or is already dead. And I've barely given him a second's thought since leaving. I'm such a horrible person. Jeffrey, please forgive me.

Jeffrey can't forgive you, a little voice whispered nastily in response. Jeffrey might be dead. Even if he isn't dead, he's probably been Wiped, so he doesn't remember you at all. He's either dead to you, or you're dead to him. Forgiveness means nothing now.

Amy felt pinpricks of pain in the corners of her eyes and jabbed fiercely at them. She couldn't cry, not here, not now. The time for crying was when Thomas had been gone.

"Amy?" she heard Thomas say hesitantly, his voice quiet but anxious. "Uh, Amy? You okay? I wasn't trying to yell –"

Amy whirled on him. "I don't give a damn about your knife!" she shouted, grief coating her tone as Thomas leaned away from her. "Or whether or not you yelled! Okay?"

Thomas raised his hands. "Okay. I just...wanted to make sure."

Amy glared at him, knowing she was taking her fear about Jeffrey out on Thomas, but she didn't give a damn. Wasn't he supposed to murder her, anyway? She had every right to be angry with him.

"Okay," Thomas repeated, sounding like he was struggling to maintain a calm, even tone. "Okay, Amy. Let's just forgot about the dagger. Something else has come up. Kismet's got search teams out, looking for you." He quickly amended that. "For us."

For a moment, Amy just stared at him. "What?"

"Kismet is looking for us," Thomas echoed, the urgency in his voice growing. "My lodge is too close to the Biodome and youth camp for us to be safe here. I don't trust the camouflage to keep us hidden, so we're leaving."

"And going where?" Amy demanded. "It's not like we can just go to the next biodome over, Thomas. The further we go from the Biodome, the –"

"– further we go from heat and life," Thomas finished. "Yeah, I learned the same mantra. It's false, by the way. Otherwise, how would the nomads survive the wasteland?" He paced over to the stove, kneeling and opening up the little, thick iron door with a folded piece of leather. "I have a relationship with one of the tribes, the Ju'ota. We'll go to them, they will take us in until the search dies down." He exhaled, closing the door against the small, flickering flames. "We can separate there, that would be better." Standing and brushing his palms off on his trousers, Thomas turned to face Amy. "Okay. Get ready to move out."

Brow furrowed, Amy watched as Thomas turned and began to pull up the various furs and skins. He began to pack them together, folding and tying them up in bundles. She hesitated for a moment, then asked, "How should I help?"

Thomas glanced up at her, appreciation showing in his eyes. "Help with the furs. That's the bulk of it."

Amy cautiously knelt beside him and helped him continue bundling and tying the furs up, until they had several bulky squares piled by the exit. It was silent work, the only exceptions being Thomas' directions for how he wanted the materials packed. His words were clear and simple, showing her the best way to go about the packing.

Thomas then shot to his feet, instructing Amy to gather the cooking utensils, food supply, and the smooth stone used for preparation together. His barking reminder to avoid the chest with the knife made her glance at it curiously.

Why did he not want her anywhere near that knife? Was he afraid she would stab him with it or something? Or stab herself? What was so bad about her picking up a knife? Or could it have simply been that she went through a chest that could have been presumed to hold his personal belongings, and thus he got angry at the intended invasion of his privacy? But it had just been a knife.

Thomas took down a sturdy wooden framing from the back of the lodge and spread one of the few unpacked furs over the framework, making Amy realize it was a sled. He began to pile the bundles of furs and hides onto it, tying them down with leather thongs and woven ropes. He worked quickly but slightly clumsily, making Amy think he hadn't done this much. She aided him in securing down the furs before he then had her place the other supplies carefully in the center, surrounded by the packs of furs. Thomas then placed the leather chest on top, tucking a soft hide around the top and edges of the objects.

"Get your parka on," he instructed, grabbing his own and shrugging it on. "It's going to get cold in here in a moment."

Amy grabbed her parka from beside his, pulling it on and securing it in place. She pulled the gloves out of the pocket and slid the wool hat over her head and down around her ears before yanking on the gloves, pulling the hood up last. Thomas crouched before the stove and opened it up again, taking a couple of moments to put the fire out and ensure it was dead. Within minutes, he had cleaned out the belly of the ashes and carefully lugged it over to the sled, placing it on the back and securing it in place.

Quickly, Thomas grabbed one of the unpacked pakka furs and tossed it over the entire sled, tying it securely in place. The stove was the only thing that sat out in the open air, and Amy now noticed that it was positioned so that it would be easy to exclude it from any such covering.

After checking his work, Thomas grabbed the last pakka fur and turned to Amy. "Here, put this on over your coat," he said, holding it out to her. She took the fur and looked down at it, then up at Thomas. Unlike his overcoat, it was a fur without any definite shape.

Clumsily, Amy dragged the fur over her shoulders, attempting to make it sit right. Thomas exhaled quickly and stepped in. Amy yanked back and he stopped, lifting his hands in that now-characteristic gesture of his.

"I'm just trying to help. Can I help?"

Amy eyed him suspiciously and then sighed. "Okay." She stood, tense, as Thomas awkwardly draped the pakka fur over her parka coat and adjusted the fur over her head, using leather thongs to fasten it in place. Then he stepped back and grabbed two sets of snowshoes off the front of the sled, handing her one of the pairs.

"Let's go."