The fur coat was large and warm, going all the way down to Lobelia's knees. She tried to tell herself that it was only because Dis was rather large for a dwarf. The hobbit woman would never voice this, however, as she was playfully teased enough about her height already.
The snow would not stop falling. Just when Lobelia had thought that the sky would clear, more snow had started to fall.
"It is making up for the warm months," Dis had said. She had stuck out her tongue, catching a few small, delicate snowflakes on the tip of her tongue. For one moment, they stuck. Then, they melted.
"Should we stop somewhere and rest? You are looking mighty chilly." Dis frowned. She placed a warm hand on Lobelia's lower back. "We can stop. Surely your family is not expecting us to reach Hardbottle tonight."
Lobelia nodded. "But where would we go?"
"I am sure that there is an inn ahead. We can get some food, rest, and let down our weapons for a short while." She smirked. "And I can warm you up in our room." She pulled Lobelia closer.
Lobelia rested against Dis's chest, warm and hard. Ever since that winter, the winter that she had thought would never end, she had been afraid of the cold. It was the reason she always carried around a weapon, no matter how mad it may have made her appear. In the end, it was better to be seen as slightly less than respectable than to get ripped open by a warg.
The fear remained; her father could fall, leaving Lobelia and her family, but the fear would never go.
Still, she at least trusted that Dis would help fight alongside her.
Lobelia played with Dis's hair, running a strand of the dwarf woman's dark hair through her fingers. "Can you make the pony go any faster? I want to hurry up and get to the inn."