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She hasn't been warm since they started this long trek towards a distant promise of safety. Perhaps not since they arrived in this foreign land. Gil's days are a blurring confusion of marching, of guard duty, of training her body in new and unfamiliar ways, of more marching. Usually she curls up in her allotted corner near a fire and drops like a stone. Tonight the wind is sharper and colder than before, with a stinging hint of sleet.
Tonight, she can't fall asleep right away and instead crouches near the fire to keep her teeth from chattering. Only a few other Guards are up. There's a least two quiet rounds of dice, and a furtive movements in the shadowed corner under a wagon that's probably someone at least attempting to fuck. The Guards are not shy or shameful about all the things that have to do with bodies, Gil has noticed. They can't really be, with how close everyone lives together here. It has been refreshing, in a way, especially because no one is being judged either way. A shadowed figure winds its way through the night towards her, soft-footed as a cat, and then the Icefalcon squats down next to her. He is cradling a faintly steaming mug, and wordlessly passes it along after taking a hearty gulp. Some vile watered down mixture of water, wine and herbs, but it's so hot that it burns her tongue. Gil coughs and then drinks down more anyway. It's funny how easy it is to strip down the world to such bare animals comforts like a warm drink and fire.
"Thanks, I needed that," she tells the Icefalcon, who simply nods and finishes the rest of it. They've passed a few nights like this, either sharing guard duty or just sitting up for a while, drinking. Gil has gotten to know all of the Guard by now, but there's still tendency to gravitate towards him, out of all of them. Ever since that first night of killing, she's felt an ease with him that she doesn't usually associate with human company. The one who first brought her into the Guard. The one who saw her, a stranger in a strange land much like her.
There's a poorly stifled moan from the shadow heap of blankets to their right, and someone giggling. The Icefalcon glances over, face as impassive as always. Gil is still learning the many undercurrents of the Guard, but she already knows the Icefalcon has a bit of a reputation for being popular with people of both genders, and generally always being open to a quick fuck with no strings attached. So she isn't exactly surprised when he turns to her and says: "They have the right idea, keeping warm on a night like this. Do you want to share blankets tonight?"
She has mostly seen people approach him before, not this way around. He's as matter-of-fact about it as she expected him to be. It makes it easier, and she's gotten some practice at turning people down. Everyone in the Guard has been very relaxed about it.
"No thanks," Gil says, only a little awkwardly. "I don't really do that. With anyone."
The Icefalcon nods, still placid, watching her with those chilly eyes. "Just no sex, or no sharing blankets with anyone at all? I'm open to either."
Gil blinks. No one has ever made that distinction before, not here and not back at home. "I don't want to fuck anyone ever. But I guess I don't object to the idea of huddling for warmth. As long as it's clear that it won't lead to anything down the line."
The Icefalcon nods, and just looks at her. Like he really sees her, like he looked at her when he named her Gil-Shalos and a natural killer.
Then he holds out his hand and Gil reaches out to take it.
In the time it takes them to briskly bundle together both of their blankets and find a free space, Gil starts to wonder if she's made a mistake. She has come to peace with what she wants (academic success, meaningful work) and doesn't want (sex, romance, children) from life a long time ago. It's only communicating with other people that is always the problem. But the Icefalcon is as calm about wrapping his arms around her as if they were moving close for sparring.
He lets Gil arrange their limbs and hesitantly bury her cold nose against his neck. He is so familiar for someone she has only known for a little more than a week. Fighting for your life and then spending nearly every waking moment together does this to you.
Gil breathes out, and relaxes. It is warmer with two sets of blankets and a body nestled close. She falls asleep almost at once.
It becomes a routine, after that first time.
Not every night – sometimes another Guard will approach the Icefalcon after training or his watch, and draw him away to those more private corners. He never tries to initiate anything of that sort with Gil.
Instead on most normal nights, by unspoken agreement, they seek each other out and then just share their warmth. Sometimes they even have a little energy left to talk quietly about the weather, the duty rooster, the camp gossip.
It feels more comforting than Gil expected. She always thought that her choice to refuse sex and romance automatically meant a solitary life, separated from everyone else. But here she has the solid community of the Guard, and her friendship with Ingold and even Rudy. And now this quiet companionship in her sleeping arrangements.
It's Rudy who finds them one morning, when Gil has just gotten up and started finger-combing her hair into some semblance of order. The Icefalcon is still curled up in all their blankets at her back, sleeping in a little after taking the pre-dawn shift. Gil is planning to wash a little in the cold stream nearby, which will be crowded as always, and then double back to shake him awake for morning training.
Rudy finds her first, with raised eyebrows that Gil meets with a frown, and a cup of warm soup, which mollifies her a little.
"Ingold sent me to find you," he explains as they walk through the camp and Gil slurps her soup.
And then, like she knew was coming, he asks: "So, you didn't waste with the Icefalcon? I mean, he's hot, but I wasn't expecting that of you, to be honest."
Gil thinks about lying, about playing into his expectations. The same way she would deflect questions about her love life back at him.
But she is tired, cold, and bruised, and feels more alive and sure of herself than in years, and so she simply says: "It's not like that. We're not lovers. Just companions."
And then she leaves it at that and walks away from Rudy's doubtful expression to look at the findings from Ingold's latest scouting trip.
She knows herself, and her place, and she is starting to find that she knows the Icefalcon too, and that is enough. Now they just need to survive long enough to reach the Keep.