The Cave
"Well," said Marcus, his breath forming small clouds in the bitter air, "this is cozy."
Elena's glare could have melted steel - though unfortunately for their present circumstances, looks possessed no measurable thermal properties, and the cave remained stubbornly, viciously cold. She said nothing, which was perhaps more ominous than any verbal response could have been.
Marcus busied himself with the collection of half-frozen twigs they'd managed to salvage - a pathetic arsenal against the elements, though one learned to appreciate such small mercies when the alternative was dying of exposure before dawn. The silence stretched between them like a taut wire, punctuated only by the wind's howling commentary on their situation.
"Catastrophically inconvenient," Elena said finally, her voice carrying the sort of precision that suggested she'd been testing various phrases in her mind and settled on this one as most accurate.
"Is that what we're calling it?" Marcus struck the flint with hands that shook only slightly - whether from cold or something else entirely was a matter he preferred not to examine too closely. The spark caught, flared, died. He tried again. "I might have chosen different words."
"I'm sure you might have." Elena moved closer to their potential fire with the careful dignity of someone pretending that dignity still mattered when one was hiding in a cave like a common criminal. "Though your usual vocabulary in these situations tends toward expressions that would have made my governess reach for her smelling salts."
The second spark held. A small flame bloomed between them, casting restless shadows that seemed to dance with entirely too much enthusiasm for their grim circumstances. Marcus fed it another twig with the sort of careful attention that suggested this skill hadn't been acquired in any respectable educational institution.
"At least we're not dead," he offered, though his tone suggested he was still calculating the odds on that particular outcome.
"The night is remarkably young," Elena replied, settling beside the fire with evident relief. "And our friends have proven themselves nothing if not... thorough."
Friends. Such an interesting choice of words for people who were undoubtedly, at this very moment, discussing the most efficient methods for ensuring their permanent silence. Marcus added another branch to their small rebellion against the darkness. "I prefer to think of them as enthusiastically concerned with our wellbeing."
"Enthusiastically concerned enough to follow us into a blizzard."
"Touching, really. Such dedication to... friendship."
Elena made a sound that might have been laughter or might have been something altogether more bitter. "Do you suppose they're out there now? Trudging through the snow with their touching concern?"
Marcus considered this while contemplating the fire that stood between them and a rather final sort of sleep. "I imagine they're having tea by a warm fire, discussing the weather and waiting for morning to collect whatever's left of us."
"How civilized of them."
"Civilization," Marcus observed, "has always been their particular strength."
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, both mesmerized by the hypnotic dance of flames that had transformed their desperate refuge into something approaching sanctuary. The fire crackled and whispered its ancient secrets, filling their small world with the primal comfort that had warmed humanity's earliest ancestors. Elena found herself drowsing slightly in the blessed heat, her body finally beginning to thaw as the warmth seeped through her clothes and into her bones. The cave walls, no longer hostile stone but gentle guardians painted gold and amber by their faithful flame, seemed to wrap around them like protective arms.