20 Cylus 719, before dawn
Dan's awareness broke out of sleep into wakefulness like an otter diving into a stream; swift, silent, and sharp with warning. When he opened his eyes, his own breath hung white in the air and frost patterns crept down his top blanket. The cold was creeping in around him with muffled deadliness, trying to pull him back down into a sleep that he'd never wake from. He snarled a wordless curse and crawled out of bed. Crawling out rather than tossing the bedding back meant that the bed retained as much wamth in it as it could for as long as it could. The ponies were awake too, and watching him. He padded over to the tent door and looked out. A blizzard worth of snow swirled in the air, hardly slowed by his windbreak at all and he grimaced and closed the flap hat served as a door again.
Padding back, he checked the dimming brazier, and added more fuel. A brighter warmth spilled out of it, but not nearly enough or far enough to fill the tent. This, he told himself, was why anyone with any sense at all tried to spend Cylus indoors, in solid, heated shelter. Enter the fluff-head Dandelion, with clearly no sense at all, who tried to spend it in the scant, shaky shelter of a tent. He sighed out a long puff of white, like dragon smoke, that hung in front of him and gradually dissipated as it matched temperature with the air around it. It wasn't as if he had anywhere better to go, so he just had to get on and survive the remains of the night. It was only going to get colder the longer he waited.
He had been sleeping in his oldest, most ragged, shirt and loincloth. Now he left that in place, with what fragile warmth it still held and began to layer on every scrap of clothing that he owned. His other loincloths he unwound and then re-wrapped around his torso. Over that went snug-fitting hide leggings, then both pairs of patched cloth trousers. He pulled his better shirt over the ragged one, laced it closed with shivering fingers, and dragged his hide vest over the top of that. Every layer was another chance to trap warmth against his body and keep it there, and he had no intention of letting this sudden cold snap win the battle for his survival. His heavy quilted coat and overleggings finished the body coverings, and he snugged the hood down around his ears and shoved his half frozen feet into his rabbit skin boots, very glad that he had left the fur intact as a crude lining. He left his hands bare for now, because there were too many things that he had to do with his hands to fumble around in his clumsy mittens and better gloves were something he didn't have. Maybe if the hunting went well this year he could trade for some, but that wouldn't help him now.
He grimaced over his wandering mind and went to see to the ponies. He gave them a quick once over with a brush to make sure that there was nothing in their coats that would chafe and hurt under a rug, then fetched out their saddle blankets and rarely used horse rugs. They needed layers almost as much as he did, and the work of grooming them also warmed him up a lot. He cleaned the hair off the brush, and stored it for later use, as he always did. It was useful for a number of things, and the reason he'd been able to have a quilted coat at all.
Cloud and Smoke were both shaggy with their thick cold-weather coats, and most of the time, that was all they needed, but right now, with the icy blizzard swirling outside, he was not in the mood to take any chances with their lives or with his. He started with Cloud, since she was the older and steadier of the ponies. With any luck, she would accept the coverings placidly and her calm would soothe the younger and more skittish Smoke. He hissed softly between his teeth so that they would know where he was as he swung Cloud's saddle blanket over her shoulders and drew it down her back in line with the way that her hair grew. Doing it that way meant that her coat was smoothed down rather than ruffled and messed up in ways that would grow increasingly uncomfortable as the saddle rubbed against it. He didn't intend to include the saddle this time, but the habit remained strong.
Cloud remained a steady four-square as he straightened the saddle blanket so that it lay evenly and without wrinkles from her withers to her hips. He eased her horse rug, cut to her size and shape, over the top and made sure that it didn't create new wrinkles in the saddle blanket before he walked around to fasten the buckles across her chest. There were two sets of buckles there, and two more under the pony's belly. As he bent to fasten them, Cloud lipped at the edge of his hood and snorted warm air down his neck. Dan tucked his cold fingers under the strap for moment, pretending that he was checking the fit and tightness of it, even as they warmed again against Cloud's warm neck. He murmured wordless thanks and patted her, a gesture that she both understood and liked, before fastening the second one and then shuffling sideways like a crab to get to the belly strap just behind her forelegs. Cloud turned her head to watch him, but didn't resist or try to avoid his move, for which he was grateful.
He fastened that strap, and the one closer to her hind legs, patted her, and moved on to Smoke, who was eyeing him more warily. She twitched her shoulders as he laid the saddle blanket across them, sending it sliding crookedly rather than hanging straight, and he had to take extra time to straighten it and soothe her. When he brought out her rug, he showed it to her and let her snuffle it before he created movement in the corner of her vision by flipping it over her back. She still startled a step, but not so far that he couldn't reach her. Her taiil whipped round as if to swat a bothersome fly. If it had hit bare skin it would have stung badly, but it hit only his shoulder, and with all the layers for warmth he hardly felt it. He fastened the buckles on her chest and hissed soothingly through his teeth as he bent to fasten the belly ones. Smoke shifted her weight, fidgeting uneasily, as he worked, but he finally got them done. He retreated to sit by the brazier, and wrap a blanket around his shoulders and up over his face in lieu of the scarf he didn't have.
Both of the ponies drifted, like their namesakes, over to join him beside the brazier and share what heat there was. Dan didn't resist or shoo them back to their own side of the tent. Not in this weather. He added a little more fuel, and set a ring of fist sized river-smoothed stones around the edge of fire to prolong the heat available. Rocks like that could absorb a lot of heat, but then they held onto the heat for a long time too, warming the litle area around them for much longer than fire alone.
He tugged on his mittens and hugged his knees to his chest to minimise his own heat loss. Then they sat there, he and the ponies together, sharing body heat, and stone heat, and fire heat from the brazier and waited for morning.
Dan's awareness broke out of sleep into wakefulness like an otter diving into a stream; swift, silent, and sharp with warning. When he opened his eyes, his own breath hung white in the air and frost patterns crept down his top blanket. The cold was creeping in around him with muffled deadliness, trying to pull him back down into a sleep that he'd never wake from. He snarled a wordless curse and crawled out of bed. Crawling out rather than tossing the bedding back meant that the bed retained as much wamth in it as it could for as long as it could. The ponies were awake too, and watching him. He padded over to the tent door and looked out. A blizzard worth of snow swirled in the air, hardly slowed by his windbreak at all and he grimaced and closed the flap hat served as a door again.
Padding back, he checked the dimming brazier, and added more fuel. A brighter warmth spilled out of it, but not nearly enough or far enough to fill the tent. This, he told himself, was why anyone with any sense at all tried to spend Cylus indoors, in solid, heated shelter. Enter the fluff-head Dandelion, with clearly no sense at all, who tried to spend it in the scant, shaky shelter of a tent. He sighed out a long puff of white, like dragon smoke, that hung in front of him and gradually dissipated as it matched temperature with the air around it. It wasn't as if he had anywhere better to go, so he just had to get on and survive the remains of the night. It was only going to get colder the longer he waited.
He had been sleeping in his oldest, most ragged, shirt and loincloth. Now he left that in place, with what fragile warmth it still held and began to layer on every scrap of clothing that he owned. His other loincloths he unwound and then re-wrapped around his torso. Over that went snug-fitting hide leggings, then both pairs of patched cloth trousers. He pulled his better shirt over the ragged one, laced it closed with shivering fingers, and dragged his hide vest over the top of that. Every layer was another chance to trap warmth against his body and keep it there, and he had no intention of letting this sudden cold snap win the battle for his survival. His heavy quilted coat and overleggings finished the body coverings, and he snugged the hood down around his ears and shoved his half frozen feet into his rabbit skin boots, very glad that he had left the fur intact as a crude lining. He left his hands bare for now, because there were too many things that he had to do with his hands to fumble around in his clumsy mittens and better gloves were something he didn't have. Maybe if the hunting went well this year he could trade for some, but that wouldn't help him now.
He grimaced over his wandering mind and went to see to the ponies. He gave them a quick once over with a brush to make sure that there was nothing in their coats that would chafe and hurt under a rug, then fetched out their saddle blankets and rarely used horse rugs. They needed layers almost as much as he did, and the work of grooming them also warmed him up a lot. He cleaned the hair off the brush, and stored it for later use, as he always did. It was useful for a number of things, and the reason he'd been able to have a quilted coat at all.
Cloud and Smoke were both shaggy with their thick cold-weather coats, and most of the time, that was all they needed, but right now, with the icy blizzard swirling outside, he was not in the mood to take any chances with their lives or with his. He started with Cloud, since she was the older and steadier of the ponies. With any luck, she would accept the coverings placidly and her calm would soothe the younger and more skittish Smoke. He hissed softly between his teeth so that they would know where he was as he swung Cloud's saddle blanket over her shoulders and drew it down her back in line with the way that her hair grew. Doing it that way meant that her coat was smoothed down rather than ruffled and messed up in ways that would grow increasingly uncomfortable as the saddle rubbed against it. He didn't intend to include the saddle this time, but the habit remained strong.
Cloud remained a steady four-square as he straightened the saddle blanket so that it lay evenly and without wrinkles from her withers to her hips. He eased her horse rug, cut to her size and shape, over the top and made sure that it didn't create new wrinkles in the saddle blanket before he walked around to fasten the buckles across her chest. There were two sets of buckles there, and two more under the pony's belly. As he bent to fasten them, Cloud lipped at the edge of his hood and snorted warm air down his neck. Dan tucked his cold fingers under the strap for moment, pretending that he was checking the fit and tightness of it, even as they warmed again against Cloud's warm neck. He murmured wordless thanks and patted her, a gesture that she both understood and liked, before fastening the second one and then shuffling sideways like a crab to get to the belly strap just behind her forelegs. Cloud turned her head to watch him, but didn't resist or try to avoid his move, for which he was grateful.
He fastened that strap, and the one closer to her hind legs, patted her, and moved on to Smoke, who was eyeing him more warily. She twitched her shoulders as he laid the saddle blanket across them, sending it sliding crookedly rather than hanging straight, and he had to take extra time to straighten it and soothe her. When he brought out her rug, he showed it to her and let her snuffle it before he created movement in the corner of her vision by flipping it over her back. She still startled a step, but not so far that he couldn't reach her. Her taiil whipped round as if to swat a bothersome fly. If it had hit bare skin it would have stung badly, but it hit only his shoulder, and with all the layers for warmth he hardly felt it. He fastened the buckles on her chest and hissed soothingly through his teeth as he bent to fasten the belly ones. Smoke shifted her weight, fidgeting uneasily, as he worked, but he finally got them done. He retreated to sit by the brazier, and wrap a blanket around his shoulders and up over his face in lieu of the scarf he didn't have.
Both of the ponies drifted, like their namesakes, over to join him beside the brazier and share what heat there was. Dan didn't resist or shoo them back to their own side of the tent. Not in this weather. He added a little more fuel, and set a ring of fist sized river-smoothed stones around the edge of fire to prolong the heat available. Rocks like that could absorb a lot of heat, but then they held onto the heat for a long time too, warming the litle area around them for much longer than fire alone.
He tugged on his mittens and hugged his knees to his chest to minimise his own heat loss. Then they sat there, he and the ponies together, sharing body heat, and stone heat, and fire heat from the brazier and waited for morning.
