Northern British Columbia, Canada.

White.

That was all his mind could grasp at. The sparkling white blanket of snow that deceived him upon arrival.

He scoffed at himself mentally. This was nothing new to him. He didn't spend months in North Korea's mountain range to stand here, discomforted by the idea of roughing it through winter in a place equally as unforgiving.

Minhkhoa hated snow. A truth he'd never confess. He hated the way the cold seeped into his bones. The way it'd leave his cheeks burned red as he desperately craved warmth.

A curse he was bound to by growing up in the tropics. Khoa was meant for monsoons. Heavy rainfall that combated the sticky heat he called home. He wasn't made for the cold.

But Khoa kept his mouth shut throughout the hike to their mentor's cabin. Silently growing envious at the way his partner adapted so easily. At the way they seemed almost at home in these woods.

At the way they selflessly shrugged off one of their layers for his sake.

It had been three months the duo spent under Luka Jungo's guidance. Losing themselves to the art of marksmanship when their fingers didn't feel like they were about to freeze off. Here, between endless hours of training and hunting, they felt free. Isolated in a quiet little cabin Luka generously shared.

But the nights? The nights were the worst part. Here, locked away inside, Khoa wasn't immune from the harsh outdoors. The cold still seeped in, taunting him. Burrowing into the deepest parts of his body unforgivingly. And all he could do was shiver.

The nest of blankets he slowly made himself was a gamble. Some nights, he was safe. Others, he'd wake up freezing.

Tonight was no different. He clenched his jaw as best he could to keep his teeth from chattering. Nestled away into his bed as he stared at the opposing side of the room, mindlessly watching his friend as they settled into bed themselves.