"Fine," I said. "We cross together. But if this goes bad..."
"It won't."
"You don't know that."
"No." She moved closer, her shoulder brushing mine. "But I know you. And you don't quit. Even when you should."
The compliment hit weird. Like being punched except the fist was made of validation and it hurt in a completely different way.
I cleared my throat. "Yeah, well. Quitting is for people with better options."
She smiled at that. Small and genuine and somehow sadder than if she'd cried.
Then she raised both hands and pulled.
Ice spread from the shoreline in a path maybe three feet wide, extending over the black water like a scar across dark skin. The surface crackled and hissed where the cold met whatever the river actually was. Cel gritted her teeth, and I could see the effort draining her, could see the way her legs shook and her breathing went shallow.
"Stop," I said when the bridge reached maybe twenty feet. "That's enough."
"It's not even halfway."
