Camping under the stars had never really suited Metterlich. The ground was uncomfortable and their remaining food, dried jerky and hard biscuits, was scarcely palatable. No warding prevented the strength-sapping chill. The only comfort, as small as it may have been, was that the misery was shared. Hubert eyed him warily as they huddled around their small campfire, trying to shield it from the frigid wind. He did not speak, but the young wizard could feel the anger and frustration radiating from the man as he clutched his legs close, flecks of snow spattering his beard. They had hoped to reach the town of Trevigen before nightfall, yet fate had not been that kind. Now, they were stuck cowering beneath a rocky outcrop, doing their best to ignore the howling snowstorm rising around them.

Eris, of course, seemed unaffected. The young mage found it difficult not to frown in jealous disapproval at the woman. For her part, she largely ignored them both. Instead, she chose to focus on the tattered old book in her hand, pupils dilated, the black pools almost filling her large, yellow iris' in their entirety. Farnham's Fairytales. Children's stories. A strange choice, but the wizard made no comment. In the dim shadows cast by firelight, her pallid, angular features were haunting. Even the slight roundness of her cheeks didn't quite prevent the strange shading. It was almost as if they were encamped alongside a feral beast.

With a slow, languid motion, her tongue slithered out from between her teeth, licking a clawed finger as she turned another page with exaggerated purpose. Metterlich would have laughed had his own teeth not been gritted together and chattering. Hubert followed his gaze, and for a second, the young wizard almost thought he saw a slight smile forming under the inquisitor's grim countenance.

“This is really something, huh, we're in a real spot of trouble,” the mage finally said, forcing the words out with difficulty.

Hubert gave him a long, stern look as if wondering how to respond, before finally nodding his head, “That we are, but we'll be fine, I've been through worse.”

Metterlich's lips drew taut into a thin line. He didn't believe the inquisitor's words, but the steel in the old man's gaze made him hesitant to say so.

“We'll freeze to death, what a fuckin' end, huh?” he shook his head in between stuttering speech.

“Keep the fire going. Keep your mouth shut, and we weather the storm,” Hubert spat back.

“How long is that going to last? We don't have fuel. Are you gonna go out there into that mess? Admit it, we're gonna freeze,” the wizard groaned.

“I won't freeze,” Eris said simply, not bothering to lift her eyes from her book.

“Thanks for the encouraging thought,” Metterlich snapped back at the woman.

“It wasn't meant to be encouraging,” she laughed, “But I'm touched that you find it that way.”

“Why aren't you cold?” he grumbled miserably.

“She's a dryad, they don't get cold,” Hubert snorted.

“I get cold, just not as easily,” she shrugged, tossing another biscuit in her mouth as she did so.

“I'd trade ya,” Metterlich laughed.

“No you wouldn't,” the woman answered frostily, chewing on the stale cracker noisily.

“Can you feel your toes and fingers?” he asked pointedly.

“Yes.”

“Sounds like an easy trade to me.”

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The dryad smirked and shook her head, “If you say so.”

“Momentary comforts are something you can get by without,” Hubert said cynically.

“I think the desire to feel my nose is a little more important than momentary comfort,” Metterlich grimaced.

The biting cold was digging into his flesh, and the small fire was doing very little to help.

“You're soft,” the inquisitor reproached him, “Too much time in study, too little time in the real world. Not everything can be solved with magic, wisdom, or even skill. Sometimes you just have to tough it out.”

“Wonderful,” the wizard sighed and drew his legs closer.

“Don't be such a harsh critic,” Eris interjected.

Another biscuit disappeared behind jagged teeth, crunching noisily as the dryad continued reading.

“You're gonna defend him? Really?,” Hubert sneered at the dryad, “He's behaving like a whiny little prat.”

Eris shrugged and shook the crumbs from her book.

“Not everyone is as frigid as you holy man,” she chuckled and turned another page.

“Leave it Eris, Hubert's right,” Metterlich sighed, throwing the last of their kindling onto the fire “There's nothing we can do but freeze.”

“Even worse, I might not get to finish my story,” the dryad pouted in mock sadness.

The wizard raised an eyebrow, “Which one is it? I had a copy of Farnham's as a little kid. I can probably tell you how it ends.”

“The one about Prince Laur. Cursed with a boar's head apparently,” she said melodramatically, before raising a hand to forestall any remarks, “But save your breath, I'll get to the end in due time.”

“Why that book anyway?”

“Never had one of these as a child, so why not. Reading is nice and calming,” she gave him a toothy grin.

For once, the wizard felt the smile was genuine, lacking its usual bitterness and snide sarcasm. Metterlich laughed. Hubert sighed.

Eris grabbed another cracker from their small supply bag, drawing an irritated glance from the inquisitor.

“At the rate you're going, it'll be a contest to see if starvation or cold gets us first,” he snorted cynically.

“I'm just hungry,” she said apologetically in between crumbs dribbling down her chin, “But don't worry about it, tomorrow we reach Trevigen, and then we can have proper food!”

“We should get some sleep,” the inquisitor said abruptly.

The light had nearly gone out, the ever-shrinking flames greedily licking at whatever fuel remained.

“I suppose so,” the wizard said, rubbing his hands together in an effort to keep away the numbness.

The dryad closed her book, slipping it back among her things with practiced care. Metterlich assumed that even she couldn't read the words at this point. He laid down carefully, the cold stones beneath him forcing a slight gasp from his lips. It was going to be a long, miserable night. Perhaps if he'd brought an additional coat. Or stole himself a horse blanket.

Hubert didn't seem to have that problem. As if on command, the old inquisitor laid down, pulled up his blanket and went to sleep, the soft sound of his breathing soon drowned out by the keening of the wind. With no discussion to be had, the noise of the storm seemed amplified in the narrow confines of their shelter.

He could barely make out Eris' shadow hunched over the remains of the fire as the darkness settled. She was fidgeting with the supply bag again, probably searching for more food.

Metterlich sighed, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep. It was a hopeless task. He lay in silence, staring up at the darkness, listening to the wailing elements. The cold was everywhere. Seeping through flesh and into his bones.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he could see that Eris had also laid down, curled up under her own blanket.

“You should sleep,” she whispered.

“I will,” the wizard sighed and laid back down.

Minutes dragged by as he stared at the stone ledge above. He wondered what Katarina would think. No doubt she and Klober were holed up in some refined inn, waiting out the storm in warmth and comfort.

Assuming they had a storm, so far south.

“You asleep yet?” the dryad hissed.

Metterlich didn't respond, he didn't want to answer.

“I know you aren't, I can hear your breathing,” she lisped sympathetically.

The wizard remained silent.

“Are you still cold?”

He frowned. Of course he was still cold. It had only gotten colder with the extinguishing of the fire. The threadbare blanket and coat seemed to do nothing.

“Yes,” he grumbled through chattering teeth.

Eris shuffled around a bit, then went silent. Metterlich closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

“Make some space,” the hiss from his flank caught him by surprise.

“Why?” he raised an eyebrow at the shadow above him, the expression lost in the dark.

“I'll sleep next to you,” Eris said bluntly.

“What?”

“I'm warm,” she said, “Stay close and you'll be warm too.”

Metterlich wasn't even sure what response he should make to the suggestion. He moved over.

The dryad sidled close, pulling her own blanket over the two of them and pressing her body against the young wizard. She burned like a brand. Were she human, he would have suspected a fever was afflicting her body.

“Better?” Eris asked.

“Yes,” he nodded, the motion once more lost to the shadow.

“Good,” the sincerity in her voice genuine.

She adjusted her body slightly, her hair brushing against Metterlich's cheek.

“Good night,” she whispered.

He could smell the biscuits on her breath. It was strangely the only scent she seemed to give off. Somehow it made him smile.

“Good night,” he answered.

The wizard could have sworn Eris had smiled too.