He sits by the campfire, warming his icy hands. He doesn't seem to be paying attention, but somehow when he hears the leaves rustling behind him he knows it's her; he greets her as a knight would his lady and offers her a seat. She gratefully takes it.

We never had snow on the plains, she says, it's quite a wonder. She doesn't seem the least bit cold in her Sacaen garb, even with only a simple cloak to warm her; the knight, on the other hand, shivers and the Sacaen noblewoman frowns. You're freezing, she scolds, draping the cloak over him and scooting closer.

He protests; it's a knight's job to worry about his lady's well being, not the other way around. But she insists...one look into her eyes and he can hardly refuse. She clasps his hands, holding them close to her, clearly displeased with how cold they are against her own. You need to take better care of yourself, stop risking your safety for the sake of mine! He looks away, as if coming to a great realization, then slowly returns his gaze to her.

"Kent," she whispers, her palm caressing his cheek.

"Lyndis...I..." His fingers lock with hers, their lips meet softly.

And then there is silence.