She shifted the almost hundred pounds of sprawled dog off her sleeping bag and sat up, keeping the bag wrapped around her against the cold. The ground was covered and the snow was coming down in white swirling clouds making it hard to see even as far as the edge of the creek near the shelter. Clambering to his feet beside her, the dog gave her one more good morning kiss before climbing off the raised sleeping area and heading outside the shelter. In moments he was nothing more than a hazy gray blur obscured by the falling snow. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and watched as Ian set a pot on a small stove he’d placed on the picnic table bench to protect it from the wind blowing snow into the shelter. She thought about her ruined stove and groaned, camouflaging the sound with a stretch and a yawn. Eating a cold pathetic dinner was one thing, but with the way the temperature had fallen she really needed something warm to drink. She also needed to use the facilities, but that meant climbing out of her sleeping bag and scrambling up the ladder for her clothes.
