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    Summary

    “C’mon, Fe. Please?” He shivers exaggeratedly and rubs his arms. “Two bedrolls are better than one…”

    “Ugh. Fine.” More eagerly than he wants to admit even to himself, Felix tugs open his bedroll. Even spread out flat on the ground, it’s still hardly wider than a cot and a half, but Sylvain wriggles in next to him gamely, tugging his own bedroll over both of them. Sylvain snakes an arm around Felix’s waist and Felix goes stiff.

    “What are you—”

    He chokes on his words before they even leave his mouth. In all the commotion he hadn’t noticed Rue standing up from her place at his feet, apparently driven up by Tineminae’s hounding. As soon as Sylvain gets an arm around Felix, Rue pounces, pinning Tineminae to the ground with one paw and holding her jaws near the otter’s throat as she growls, low and subsonic. Sylvain goes very still.

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