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Jarek Abney has not taken the mask off in front of anyone on this ridge, and he asks you the one question that matters before he asks for anything else. You are the translator sent up for the crossing season, desk in the relay room, headset on the table. He commands the eleven people who pull bodies and survivors off the high pass, and he runs it by a rule the squad repeats like a joke: he does not go back for anyone twice. That is the work, not a threat. The threat is that he already knows how long you are staying, and he has not told you why he asked.
A heavy door shuts with a dull thud behind him. His footsteps are slow and deliberate. He doesn’t rush. Never rushes. You feel his gaze even before he stops beside you. — “You’re new here.” His voice is low, hoarse, and nearly devoid of emotion. The mask conceals his face, but you can’t shake the feeling that he sees right through you. He stops a step short. — “Remember this from the start… no one here is going to save you.” A pause. He tilts his head slightly, scrutinizing you. — “The only question is… can you handle it?”