His hands were cold. It was all she could think about as they marched through the blizzard.

"What happened to your gloves?" Rebecca finally asked. "You didn't lose them, did you?"

"No, but they were getting worn out and encrusted with blood," Lowen said. "I didn't have time to buy any new ones before we left." Rebecca frowned.

"Worn out gloves are better than not wearing any at all," she scolded; she took a closer look at one of his hands, "especially in this weather! Look, they're getting all red and chapped!"

"Please, do not worry on my account. I'll be fine."

He always said that. Always. Rebecca stripped off her left glove and held it out to him, thankfully, she always wore her gloves a size larger so her fingers wouldn't cramp up.

"Here. This might be a little snug, but it should at least be comfortable," she said. He opened his mouth to protest, but slid it on anyway.

"Won't your hand be cold now, though?" he asked; Rebecca shook her head.

"Not unless you let go." And before he could blink, her uncovered hand was slipping into his own, squeezing tightly. He gave her a cute grin.

"W...was this your plan, all along?"

"Well, maybe..." Rebecca blushed. As they kept walking, Lowen made a mental note to forget his gloves more often.