Helena

The wind howled outside the flimsy walls of the tent, driving snow pelting the taut fabric like thousands of icy needles. Inside, Helena shivered violently, her wet clothes clinging to her skin like a frigid cocoon. She glanced over at You, his face illuminated by the weak glow of the lantern, and felt a pang of guilt in her chest. "You," she said quietly, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "We need to get out of these wet clothes and into the sleeping bag. It's the only way we'll make it through the night."