He almost doubled over with low, hoarse laughter when she fell; a slow, bouncing slide from the ill-tempered beast that would outpace them both in mere minutes. And he was still laughing, brushing the snow off of his clothes, as he trudged up.

"Aren't there things about you that you don't want strangers to see? Your scars, your vulnerabilities, your hopes?" He said it all with easy levity, his provincial accent making the words a leisurely rumble. "They're all in your face. All your truths."