The wind scratches horribly at window panes.

The air shivers.

Stars glisten out there and warm skin is here. Just here.

She presses her fingertips against his ribs and feels the warm thrum of heartbeat.

Cold toes against heated shins.

Nose, slightly blue-tinged forever now, against warm neck and the heated glug of blood that's so alive and warm and then -

warm arms surrounding.

Breath heated against skin.

Breath heating beneath.

Sleep begins -

but dreams are snowmen and ice and blizzards.

A bone-numbing ache deep down.

Tears on cheeks lost in sleep.

He curls around her, eyelashes brushing wet skin.

Tiny earthquakes of her shaking him half-awake.

"Anna?"

Sticky-eyed and groggy-voiced.

And then she is moving him, him so heavy and warm, over her so cold and small and blue-tinged.

He asks again.

She nods with her face and hips and fingertips and pulls him inside.

Heated breaths and love and warmth consume.

The wind is kept at bay.