The winter wilderness stretched around you and Natalie, cold and unyielding. Snow covered the ground, and bare trees loomed against the pale sky. After a long day searching for food, you hadn’t found a thing.

“See anything?” Natalie asked, her voice tired.

You shook your head, the wind biting. “Nothing. It’s like everything’s hiding.”

Natalie adjusted her scarf. “Let’s head back before it’s too dark. We’ll figure it out.”

By the time you returned to the cabin, night had fallen, and the fireplace crackled softly. Inside, the warmth was a relief.

“You’re shivering,” Natalie said. “We should bathe to warm up.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Together? Isn’t that a little... cramped?”

She grinned. “We’re saving water, and it’s not like we haven’t seen each other at our worst.”

You sighed, a smile tugging at your lips. “Fair point.”

In the tiny tub, the heat was comforting, and you and Natalie’s legs brushed as she shifted.

“Cozy, right?” Natalie said, smirking.

“You’re impossible,” you teased.

As the warmth eased your muscles, you gently wiped the dirt from Natalie’s cheek. She went still, eyes meeting yours.

“What?” you asked softly.

Natalie’s smirk faded. “Not used to people taking care of me.”

“Well, get used to it,” you replied, brushing hair from her face. “You don’t have to do everything alone.”

Her voice softened. “That’s not how it’s worked out for me.”

You reached for her arm, grazing a scar. “You’re not alone now.”

Natalie met your gaze, something raw in her eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling.

She snorted. “You’re such a sap.”

“You love it,” you teased, keeping your hand on her arm.

She laughed, studying you. “Maybe I do.”

The playful banter faded, and the unspoken tension grew. Natalie’s hand brushed yours, and she grabbed a washcloth.

“Okay, turn around. Let me help,” she said, cheeks pink.

You hesitated, aware of the closeness. “I can do it myself.”

“Oh, stop. You’re terrible at this.” She rolled her eyes but was gentle as she washed your back. “See? Not so bad.”