His footsteps stop, too, because he knows well what she means. Where, rather. Back into his past instead. He thinks of it, of the hill and the relentless heat of the sun and of Jamie's hand gripping his ankle, the red of Jamie's birthmark covered up in blood.

He abandons his study of the way ahead to study her and his face is harsh, blank, but his voice is almost gentle. "There is no going back, sai Azúcar. Only forward. Only through."