I pulled it away from my face; drops of condensation fell into my eyes. Pulling the poncho away, the cold swirled around my face. “Damn!” It was cold; the temp had dropped overnight, and I did not want to get out of my sleeping bag. I finally crawled out and shoved my feet into those cold-ass boots, took the Carhartt from the pack, and put it on. My little fire was long gone; the ground was cold. A few steps away from my little camp, I took a leak. I was surprised how dark it was. Cool weather can fool you; in hot weather, you drink because you have to. In colder weather, you have to make the conscious effort to hydrate. I pulled out some of the firewood I collected the night before and sparked up a little fire, making this one a little bigger. I needed to warm up. Taking the MSR pot from the pack, I pulled out the bag of oatmeal and the bottle of honey. The canteen and cup came out next, then the cup stove. I stuck the stove to the bottom of the cup, put about half a cup of oats in, and poured enough water to cover them.
