You and Ellie were on your way into Seattle to track WLF. You’d secured this area of the woods, clearing it of infected, setting up camp.

You found yourselves sharing a sleeping bag, the fire crackling beside you. Ellie’s hair was messy, hickeys lining your necks.

Underneath the sleeping bag, you were both completely exposed, breathing heavy.

“It’s a little cold out here, don’t you think?” She muttered, brushing your hair behind your ear.