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Welcome back. It must have taken a moment to turn the metaphorical page on this. Maybe even a day or more. That's certainly fine, but we have many more tales to tell by the cozy fire, crackling and warm. So many people have bonded on such a thing, indeed. It is a guardian of life and a dealer of pain. It destroys to heal, yet we all gather around it for that comfort we desperately desire. So please, come closer, bundle yourself up, and enjoy this next story.

---

The chill is unseasonable. It's definitely the doing of some great magician, either working some dread spell this solstice or the echoes of one from long ago. Either way, the tiny traveler clings to their cloak, their head bowed their snout sniffling.

The chill cuts more profound than anyone could imagine, from the bottom of his hoof to the tips of his antlers.

He collapses to his knees, his breath crystalizing before him. Hurriedly, he fumbles in his cloak, pulling out a vial with but a drop of glowing orange liquid. Throwing his head back, he shakes the vial with the vigor of desperation, and the final fall rolls down, touching his tongue.

The heat rushes through him momentarily, dissipating almost as immediately as it began. But it's enough to have him still move forward towards his destination. But as he trudges forward, he pauses, tilting his nose and sniffing the air.

Someone's close. A... female? He frowns, having not scented anything else. This is her territory, and she is alone. He clings the clothing closer to him, his shuddering having stopped. There's nothing else to it, then, but to press on.

A cabin. Out here in the middle of this dangerous climate? It is made with newly-felled logs. He collapses against the door, pounding the wooden entryway with a desperate and chipped hoof, his breath needles in his throat.

The door opens wide, and on the other side stands a female, just as he had scented, the same size as he. Through his frost-caked glasses, he smiles and collapses against her, her body warm, oh so warm.

Wordlessly, she drags him in, leaning in a moment for her small snout to sniff the air around him. "You're new," she says to herself, pulling him into her petite little shack. In the center of this hovel cackles a tiny fire, where she rests the collapsing creature beside.

"Uhh...h...h.uu...?" His groan is the first sign that he's returned to liveliness, scooting closer to the fire.

"Your cloak is soaked!" the woman says, pulling it off in her hooves. She gasps.

Dreamily, he turns his head to face her, his glasses sliding down onto his snout, staring at the blurry image of the woman whose scent he had picked up earlier. "I... is something the matter?"

Biting her lip, the woman runs her hoof through her spiked, slicked-back hair. "Hah... no. Didn't expect someone to be dressing so lightly for the weather."

"It wasn't so cold when I started my journey," he admits, arms wrapped around him.

She plops down next to him, smirking. "Yeah, but you didn't account for the mana fluctuations in this region, did ya? I'm no mage, and I knew that one."

"You know I'm a mage?"

"Inherent magic, perhaps. Considering how stupid it was to travel out here alone." She snickers.

"He puffs out his cheeks, pushing his glasses back up. "You're alone too, miss, ah."

He sees her lounging there, half undressed, binding around her chest, her form toned.

"I'm not alone, though," she says.

"But I only scented you here," he protests.

"I have my tools. They're all I need to make it through. Well..." she says this, patting a wrench. "They were until things got too cold for use."

"I thought you said you were prepared for the cold." He says, wrapping his arms around himself, shuddering, shivering."

"I am. Just not for the night. So, I'm waiting for this storm to pass."

He stares into the fire and then at her. "It's been at least a day. The storm will likely continue for another day."

"I have food. And now, I have company."

He smiles. "So, what brings you here, miss...?

"Lerato," she responds, scooting closer to him. "I'm looking for a great treasure. Gonna use it to build an impressive device. You?"

"Lovemore," he smiles, scooting closer. "I'm here for a great treasure, too. It could unlock so many mysteries and... fortune."

"Hell yeah! Take what you want from it and sell it afterward? You're my kind of guy!"

His cheeks warm up, and he sits taller. "You think so, miss Lerato?"

"I know so," she snickers. "Those wizards leave their garbage all over the savannahs and plains. And then rich assholes pay handsomely for them."

"Indeed," he says.

"Another point to your not being one of those book magi," Lerato says.

"On the contrary, miss," Lovemore says. "I just apply my book learning to more practical affairs."

"Then, by all means," she says, "I'd love to see them."

Lovemore nods, but in the back of his mind, he's already plotting how to get his treasure all to himself. Little does he know that his newfound traveling companion thinks the same thing.

--

In the direst of circumstances, something of great warmth can grow. And in the heat of a fire, such a simple thing, a lifelong companionship can begin, even if it is just a spark. And even then, the tumultuousness of adversity is the first thing to flare up between the two. The fire is a boon and a burden, a true gift that can be a curse if used irresponsibly.

What happened to finally bring these two together? If it is, indeed, the same pair we have seen before. After all, this is merely a story.