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The air was bitingly cold, seeping through clothes and settling into bones. Ceri shivered under the blankets on her cot, inching as close to the fire as she could manage. The cold from her walk lingered, but the fire remained too far to help warm her. She brought her hands to her mouth, blowing on her stiff fingers to warm them. Chatter carried to her on the wind. Scouts trying to find the remnants of Corypheus’ templars, horses and brontos being loaded down with supplies, and the whispers of medics as they tended to groaning wounded.
Ceri tucked her hands back under her arms. She was so tired. The urge to fall back onto her cot and close her eyes was overwhelming. She didn’t give in, though. It would be a death sentence.
“Herald, your lips are still blue,” Cullen said, voice low as he approached her cot. Ceri looked up, blinking slowly at him.
“That would explain why I feel like I’m freezing to death,” she murmured. She tried to keep her tone light, though she was sure her words were a little slurred.
“Come, we’ll put you closer to the fire.” He hauled her to her feet, and all but carried her to the nearest fire. Cullen shed his cloak, spreading it on the ground before setting Ceri on it. He settled next to her and adjusted her legs so her feet sat closer to the flames.
“I remember, when I was little, Anwen and Briallen and I were all playing by the river one winter. We were play fighting and Anwen smacked Briallen with a huge stick and knocked her straight into the water. We went back as soon as it happened, but Briallen’s mother made her strip immediately and change into dry clothes. She told us every gruesome story she knew about people who froze to death from wet clothes to make sure we’d be more careful in the future. It’s a little silly, but that’s all I could think of when trying to get away. That my clothes were wet,” Ceri said, relishing the warmth against her skin. Cullen stilled next to her, in the middle of taking her hands in his. After a moment, he moved again, pushing Ceri’s frozen hair away from her face.
“I thought you were dead,” he said softly.
“So did I.”
“Now that I—we know you’re not, we’ll do our best to keep you that way.”
“The dedication is appreciated, Commander,” she said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as Cullen blew on her hands. He paused again, meeting her eyes. She held his gaze for a moment, relishing the warmth of his gloved hands against hers. The contact burned against her skin, hotter than the fire next to them. Cullen cleared his throat and looked away as he stood.
“Of course, Herald. Should you need anything else—“
“I know who to call.”
Cullen nodded, glancing at Ceri one more time before hurrying away. She watched him go, smiling faintly, before turning back to the fire. Despite everything falling apart around her, a small spark of warmth blossomed in Ceri’s chest.