Eddie can only huff out a soft, misplaced laugh—relief, maybe. Steve recognizes him this time, yet seems surprised to see him. It’s clear that he has questions, and Eddie has several of his own, but this is neither the place nor time. As the fog rolls in closer, immediately stinging at any and all exposed skin, Eddie pulls Steve back, begins yanking him towards the path.
“Yeah. That fog. Come on. There’s a ranger’s cabin up here somewhere. Not much, but it'll do the job.”
His grip on Steve’s arm is tight, and he doesn’t let go. It’s a desperate, anxious sort of grip, like he’s convinced himself that if he loosens up for even a moment, another person just might slip through his fingers. His footsteps are quick, but not particularly graceful. He doesn’t really move like a spry young man anymore. His movements stiff with the never-ending cold and old injuries that didn’t get the doctoring they really needed out here. But he’s undoubtedly alive, even if he does feel like he never managed to pull one foot out of the grave.
As promised, a tiny cabin stands nestled in the trees, just off the path. It’s small, clearly not want for an extended stay, and the wood used to build it is shabby and deteriorating, but it has a roof and all four walls are standing and anything is better than letting this weird, otherworldly fog eat away at them. Eddie pulls Steve inside, slams the door shut, and finally, finally lets go of his arm. He leans against the door, huffs out a breath, loosens his scarf again, and offers up a wry smile.
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“Yeah. That fog. Come on. There’s a ranger’s cabin up here somewhere. Not much, but it'll do the job.”
His grip on Steve’s arm is tight, and he doesn’t let go. It’s a desperate, anxious sort of grip, like he’s convinced himself that if he loosens up for even a moment, another person just might slip through his fingers. His footsteps are quick, but not particularly graceful. He doesn’t really move like a spry young man anymore. His movements stiff with the never-ending cold and old injuries that didn’t get the doctoring they really needed out here. But he’s undoubtedly alive, even if he does feel like he never managed to pull one foot out of the grave.
As promised, a tiny cabin stands nestled in the trees, just off the path. It’s small, clearly not want for an extended stay, and the wood used to build it is shabby and deteriorating, but it has a roof and all four walls are standing and anything is better than letting this weird, otherworldly fog eat away at them. Eddie pulls Steve inside, slams the door shut, and finally, finally lets go of his arm. He leans against the door, huffs out a breath, loosens his scarf again, and offers up a wry smile.
“Hey, Steve. Fancy meeting you here. Again.”