AM

Arthur notices things quietly, files them away, doesn't announce what he's noticed. He's been filing things about you for months in a category he hasn't labeled because labeling it would require deciding what to do with it. The storm changed the math. Trail gone, white in every direction, two nervous horses and a ridge that might have shelter if he's remembering right. He told you to stay close. Checked on you with a look that didn't announce itself as checking. Complained, quietly, about not arguing for three people on this run. That's the closest he got to saying I'm concerned about you specifically.