Page 66 of What Remains

He wore the same sleep-rumpled look she did, but his posture carried focus. Coffee steamed from a mug in his hands, curling upward in the cold. He paused when he saw her feeding the cows.

"You startled me," he said.

Josie glanced over at him. "Just getting a head start on the day."

His eyes moved from her to the open bags. "You feeding them?"

She nodded, turning slightly so the cows could keep eating while she met his gaze. "I couldn't leave them hungry."

Seth took a step closer, then another, drawn in by the quiet competence of it. "You grew up on a ranch makes sense.”

Josie lifted her brows. "Yeah."

He leaned his forearm on the fence beside her. Steam warmed his fingers as he took a slow sip.

"My dad would've haunted me for walking away and letting animals go without food."Josie laughed under her breath at the though of her dad and cows.

His gaze tracked past the barn door toward the snow-covered fields, then returned to her when he spoke again. "We've got livestock now too."

Josie turned fully. "You do?"

"Cara's cabin." Seth's voice softened around the name, a quiet reverence for their journey. "She was already off-grid when they found her."

Josie recalled Jay mentioning it. "She had chickens?"

"She had chickens," Seth confirmed with a careful nod. "And ducks."

Josie's eyes widened. "Ducks?"

"They're loud."

"They're incredibly loud."

"They're mean."

"They're definitely mean."

Seth's grin broadened. "And useful."

"I bet they've kept everyone fed more than once," Josie mused, recognizing the value of such a resource.

Seth drained his coffee, then set the mug on the fence rail by the cows. "Sawyer's already making plans for spring. He wants to expand everything. The garden's getting bigger. Storage buildings, fencing, rainwater catchment system, a root cellar⁠—"

Josie listened intently. "Good. That's... smart."

Seth's smile softened into something more complex, quieter. “He says survival shouldn't be the only goal anymore."

"What does he mean?" Josie asked, though she had a strong suspicion.

"It means building something that lasts," Seth explained. "Not just for this week. For five years. Ten, if we get lucky."

Josie's voice gentled. "I like that."

Seth stared back at the pasture, his hands tightening on the fence. "I just..." He exhaled, the words emerging slower. "I never pictured planning that far out."

Josie watched him, then gave a small nod. “I don’t think anyone planed for this.”

A comfortable silence settled, not pressing, but present. The cows chewed, snow drifted outside in slow motion, and a loose piece of metal somewhere beyond the walls creaked against the wind—a thin, irregular sound indifferent to the people within.