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Summary
He shifted and suppressed a groan, curling into his sleeping bag and makeshift tarp-burrito combo that was frankly begging to be thrown across the room, acutely aware that the fire must have gone out because it was fucking freezing. Eyes closed as he bordered on full consciousness, he could hear the sound of the wind still howling outside of the cave entrance, and the soothing tinkle of windchimes bouncing off the walls. Wait...the fuck? Windchimes? Or glass?
Annoyed, he opened his eyes, blinking in the low light as he propped one arm underneath him, looking in the direction of the sound. He lit one hand as he sat up, his vision struggling to adjust to the change and his brow furrowed for a moment before a flare of panic as Waterboy lay with his eyes closed beside the dead fire pit covered in what looked like icicles.