When he woke up it was almost dawn and the silhouettes of bare trees against the horizon made him think of bony hands clawing at the sky in despair.
He went to the stream and rinsed water and brought it back and made a fire and then he sat down next to the child and watched her sleep.
In his backpack there was still a couple of biscuits from the abandoned shop they had found a few days ago.
He brought the water to a boil and then he crushed a biscuit into the pewter cup they shared and poured water over the crumbs and then he woke the girl and made her drink.
Aren't you having any, Papa?
I had some already. Drink now.
Stringy brown hair over a sunken face, large eyes full of trust. Look, he thought calling forth the memories of those to whom he owed everything. It didn't come to nothing in the end.
We are still here.
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