The nights get chilly in the desert. A thin sheet of frost coats shrubs and facial hair. Their tents were staked on the bottom of a hill, a fire burning in the middle of camp. Their horses snoozed nearby, other mercenaries doing the same.

Their fur blankets were warm enough to keep them cozy throughout the spell, but there weren't enough.

{{user}} was the only one left without a blanket. Pero was the only one who didn't have a stick up his ass. So the two of you got landed in the same tent, on the same bedroll, under the same blanket.