Weijie looked down at her, his pupils slightly dilated, a sign of the seasonal shift already beginning to affect his nervous system. He squeezed her hands back, his palms still radiating a heat that felt like a dying coal.
"You will not die." he said, his voice dropping into a register so low it was almost a growl of protective instinct. "I will not let the frost touch you. If you need the fire to stay awake while I sleep, then the mountain will give us its wood."
He looked toward the dense cluster of iron-oaks standing like ancient sentinels at the edge of the plateau. In his prime, he could have felled two of those in a day and dragged them up the slope without breaking a sweat. But today, even the act of standing straight seemed to require a conscious effort.
"I will bring them." he promised. "I will bring the iron-oak."
Ningning nodded, regardless she shouldn't over work Weijie. She'd have him fall and chop off two trees per day.
