"Come on!"

For the fifth time Ashe slashed her knife against her flint. It was no good, the dead branches and kindling she'd managed to scrounge from outside were too damp to catch fire. The young archer sat back on her knees and groaned, staring dismally at her tools.

She shivered. Outside, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon as snow continued to fall. Even if the weather cleared up, there was no way she'd be able to get home safely after dark. And that was without the added complication of a guest.

She cast a glance over her shoulder. The woman - Kayle? - was curled up in the back of the cave where Ashe had found her; wings wrapped protectively around her body where she had fallen asleep after the meal. Dirty blonde hair dangled past her shoulders, hopelessly tangled and matted. The strange cloth garment she wore had seen better days; it was tattered and showed much more than it didn't, exposing a long stretch of skin almost as pale as Ashe's own but far less unblemished. Scars criss-crossed the strange woman's stomach, sword or knife wounds winding their way across toned abdominal muscles. Thin and starved though the woman looked, there were men in Ashe's village who didn't have that kind of definition. At the thought, Ashe blushed slightly.

The subject of her observations let out a low groan and folded her wings more tightly around herself. At closer glance she appeared to be shivering; Ashe cursed quietly to herself; if she couldn't start a fire soon they would both freeze to death. The stranger wasn't dressed for the cold and she only had her own fur cloak to keep her warm.

Not for the first time Ashe considered that she was very much in trouble.

Abruptly a cold breeze ruffled her hair; the unexpected chill made her draw her cloak around her. Behind her the stranger moaned quietly, a slight clicking informing Ashe that her teeth were chattering, and the young woman grimaced in sympathy.

Leaving the flint and knife where they lay, Ashe made her way to the back of the cave and knelt beside Kayle. One hand undid the heavy fur cloak from her shoulders while the other gently wrapped it around her shivering companion. Kayle twitched, and Ashe briefly expected some sort of response, but instead the winged woman sighed and snuggled into the cloak's warmth.

Without her cloak, the winter chill cut more deeply into Ashe's bones as she walked back to the mouth of the cave and picked up her tools again.

You are back on the fields of Eden, clad in your armor with your sword in hand. The rebel hosts darken the sky; they are so numerous you don't even bother to count. They surround you mid-air as your tired wings beat to keep you aloft, taunting and jeering you.

She is among them, clad in an Arbitrator's robes, looking as cold and remotely beautiful as a Mausoleum statue. She looks down on you dispassionately, raises one arm, and the mobs fall on you, screaming hatred as swords rain down -

There is something touching you but it isn't a sword, and as you shake yourself out of the dream you realize it is a heavy garment made out of animal fur, draped over your wings. For a moment you don't recognize it but then clarity sinks in; it's the human's cloak, the one who found you in the cave and gave you the first meal you've had in days.

Even through the weight of the cloak you can feel the oppressive cold bite at you; it's almost unbearable. Your magic struggles to come to life, to warm you, but the very air weighs it down, stifles the fire of your inner being with gusts of freezing air. There is no doubt that you will die here, your inner heat snuffed out by this unrelenting frost.

Where is the human? You cannot imagine that she can survive this hell without her garment and you look around in something approaching panic. You owe her your life, and a true Angelus would die rather than leave a debt unpaid.

A shock of white catches your eye, the form it's attached to slumped near the entrance to this cave. The effort it takes to stand - slowly, haltingly - and then reach the human is monumental. Your body aches with every step, reminding you of every blow taken and every meal missed. Yet you are Kayle of Eden and pain means very little to you.

The human - Ashe - is still alive when you reach her, but her eyes are closed and her breath is erratic, escaping her lips in quick bursts. Tiny crystals of frost have formed on her eyelids, and she feels disturbingly heavy when you seize her by the shoulders and throw her cloak around both of you.

"Stupid human!" you growl, "have you no sense of self-preservation?"

At your harsh words blue eyes flutter open. You see first surprise, and then desperation. She chokes out a few words you don't understand, one hand scrabbling at the floor. You look down; a rock and a knife lie at your feet, along with a small pile of twigs and branches.

What manner of human practice this is, you have no idea, but evidently Ashe believes it to be important. You take the tools and press them into her hands, and are shocked when she strikes the edge of the knife against the rock.

"Are you mad?" you cry out, but she ignores you and tries again. Orange flecks of light fly off the clashing surfaces and into the pile of dead wood. Nothing happens, but the human keeps at her futile exercise.

Your arms close around her, ready to haul her away from this nonsense, when a final spark falls into the refuse, glowing sullenly.

And you feel it as your magic stirs to life, breathing new warmth into your limbs. Somehow this spark is the trigger, the impetus for action you've somehow been missing. It isn't much, just the faintest whisper of a memory, but it is enough for you to touch your fingers to the sorry-looking pile of dead wood and coax to life a small globe of flame that merrily consumes the kindling.

For the first time since you have come to this barren world you feel joy, and as you turn to meet your companion's gaze you see in her awestruck eyes, as blue as the waters of the Holy Cascades, a mirror of that joy. It is that understanding that compels you to pull her flush against your side and arrange the cloak more securely around the both of you as she looks raptly into the growing fire.

It is a while before sleep takes you, but when it does you do not dream.