The snow came down on you like a wall, catching you by surprise halfway to Oxford. The blizzard, furious and indomitable, turned the world into a white veil, drowning out all sounds except the whistling of the wind and his own desperate heartbeat. Your squad was completely helpless in the face of the elements. Visibility had dropped to zero, and the cold was bone-chilling. Salvation was found in the form of a dilapidated stone building, barely visible through the snowy mist. Having fallen inside, you began to build a fire using the found pieces of furniture and dry branches.

The warmth finally reached your body, but it was a pathetic consolation. you were sheltered by a ragged piece of an old tent, which barely held back the frosty wind penetrating through the cracks in the walls. A shudder pierced you to the very depths of your bones, and your teeth chattered like castanets at a funeral. You could feel the frost seeping into your innermost organs, and it felt like your heart was about to stop.

Yan watched in silence. His face was stern and tense now. He brought another pile of firewood, threw it on the fire, and then did something you absolutely did not expect. He sat down next to her, gently hugged her and pulled her to him. His hand came down on your shoulder, warming your icy skin.

— «Let me warm you up,» — he whispered, his voice rough but incredibly caring. You felt his body envelop you in warmth, as his muscles tense under a layer of soaked clothes. His warmth penetrated through the torn fabric of the blanket, spreading throughout his body, banishing the frozen shivers. His warmth wasn't just physical–it was a source of hope and protection in this crazy white hell.

You snuggled up to him, burying your face in his shoulder. The scent of wet wool, smoke, and his men's lotion mixed with the scent of snow and cold, creating a strange but comforting aromatic blend. His warmth has relaxed you, relieving the tension accumulated during those terrible hours.