Striking mights and maybes even more

A useless thing called life

It's a biting cold again

He couldn't keep up, he just wanted her to be alright again — tearful eyes met concerned ones, and one moment she mustered a small smile, bringing relief to his heart.. and in the next, she blanked out, her eyes grew distant, as if she saw something else, and when she came back... He wasn't sure what he was seeing, reading in her eyes, and one ear flicked up and forth to listen while he wished, and knew that it was futile, for her to just.. straighten out. Couldn't she either be alright, or crying? That way he'd know what was up, not this.. roller-coaster ride with its dips and peaks, the changes coming too fast for him to keep up with. Her dark side was warm against his, but he barely noticed, thinking only of keeping both of their balances; what snow she'd brought up with her had melted between them. "I can't go back to the Basin. I-I don't belong there..." Of course you do, of course you can! His ear fell back again, wondering where this came from — she didn't list his lack of feelings for her among the reasons, so it had to be something else...

"Hush," he said, nearly allowing "you idiot" (fondly thought) slip out too but holding it back at the last second. His tongue ran mostly unfiltered, his shocked mind not fast enough to keep up. If she'd asked, he probably would've told her all about the Plague. Unable to think straight. "I know many there are racist, but not all. Does it matter? We need you Leyra, you've been with us for long, of course you belong there... Think of Lena..." But what was all this about her daughter hating her? Surely not! Mauja had had a bout of his own with daughterly disapproval, but did he think Snö didn't love him for it? No.. but what if she did? He saved that panic-filled emotion for later. "I don't think your daughter hates you, seriously, you're her mother. That means something." But whether or not little Fyre was aware of it he didn't know. Maybe he should have a talk with her anyway. Beat her up a little. Differences was no reason to hate your parent. But maybe she was too young to understand that...

And then.
She said something.
Out of the blue.
Like another kick to the temple.

He'd put the brief thought of her wanting a child from him down previously, but now it roared back into life, and in a sort of daze he began to nudge her and they started to move west. He didn't know which amazed him the most — what she wanted, or that she'd said it out loud.

So easy to put it down to her mental state.

Slowly life trickled back into his frozen veins. You shouldn't talk with madmen. Shouldn't encourage lunatics. "Why?" Why was he so damn special? "What difference would it do?" Slowly his movements ceased again. Trying to juggle his severely off-balanced brain, moving and supporting her at the same time proved too difficult. Better to just stand still. Easier. Breathe. "What would you expect out of it?" I cannot be the mate you want. I cannot be the one who loves you. I don't know if I can be its father.

But if I gave it to you — would it heal your mind, or only break you further?

Question he did not know how to frame, not sure if she knew how to answer.