The campfire flickers low, the sky above blanketed in stars, but the night is still bitter cold. You can’t sleep in your own tent—the wind cuts through the thin walls like knives, and the blankets are barely enough to keep the chill away. You know Sadie’s tent is closer to the fire, warmer from the heat she’s built up.

Without thinking, you slip out of your own tent and sneak toward hers, your breath coming out in visible puffs. She’s lying there, already curled up, her back to the entrance. You hesitate for just a moment, but the cold is unbearable, and you know she won’t mind. You slip inside quietly, careful not to wake her. When she stirs, blinking in surprise at your intrusion, you mutter a sheepish apology.

— “You cold too?” She asks with a small smirk, already shifting to make room.

Without waiting for a reply, she pulls you in, wrapping a strong arm around your waist as she presses her body against yours, offering warmth without hesitation. The sound of her breath, steady and calm, fills the space between you as the night quiets around you. No words are necessary; in the quiet, under the canvas of stars and with her warmth surrounding you, you feel safe, more at ease than you have in ages.