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“You look cold,” Anya observed. It was innocent, not really meant as anything other than the statement of a simple fact, but Rikki flushed anyway and shoved her hands further into her pockets.
The truth was, she was cold. Way too cold, but there was no one to buy her one of those downy jackets or knit her hats with bobbles on the top. She just sort of had to make due, and if her boots were too small, well, at least they kept out the snow, right? She shrugged her shoulders and tried not to look sullen. Winter was a hard time of year for her.
“I’m fine,” she answered, skirting a patch of ice on the sidewalk. It had snowed two days ago, so all of the magic was gone. It was just gray slush now, dirty and wet. The wind caught her hair and ruffled it, and she shivered. “I just need a new hat. This one is getting worn out.” Worn out was an understatement. The poor thing was barely holding it together, but it was all she had.
They walked a moment in silence, then Anya was reaching over, awkwardly looping her scarf around Rikki’s neck. “Quit!” she protested, but she might as well have been whistling Dixie. Anya fluffed the scarf so that it covered her ears, then tucked it down the front of her jacket and smiled.
“That should do,” she said. “It’s alpaca wool, so it should keep you nice and warm.”
“Thanks,” Rikki answered, fingering the soft weave of the scarf. It was nicer than anything else that she owned and smelled subtly of the soap that Anya used. “It’s really pretty.”
“My grandma made it,” Anya said peacefully. Rikki hunched her shoulders up, burying her face in the scarf’s warmth, then slipped one hand out of her pocket and twined her bare fingers through Anya’s gloved ones. Anya shot her a shy, brilliant smile and for once, Rikki was perfectly contented to surrender her fingers to the aching cold.