The cold, bitter air held you like a wild animal. Unforgiving, and dulling your senses. It was quiet at camp, besides the incoherent slurring of words together, and the dwindling warmth of the campfire. Some of the men couldn’t even stand.

There was a soft melody, the most you could understand was it was some sort of opera.

You startled at the soft sound of Arthur moving behind you, his scent flooding your senses.

“Care t’dance?”

He had an outstretched, gloved hand raised out towards you.