There are a number of different ways to retain heat, warmth and the swelter of a given fabric within a confining space. The same can be said of a lack of heat; that is, cold, chill and the sting of frigid air. Both cases rely heavily on temperature to maintain their adjective nature, and because of this, the same effect occurs on both over time. If either space is directly in contact with a source, or nearly so with little impedance, then that source is subjected to a change mirrored by the change in the space.
This was the case. The delta that corresponded to the space between Sasuke and Sarada and Sarada's clothes and Sarada's body was positive.
Sarada clung around her father's neck, her arms having taken up residence in the troughs of the area between his neck and shoulders, her right hand clasped around her left wrist, her left hand in a fist, and her chest pressed stiffly against his cloak. It was difficult for Sarada to maintain such a position with her chin over his right shoulder, as the speed at which they were traveling rattled her head if she did not relax it some. Sasuke's right arm was the support under her rear and the girl kept her toes curled inwards, away from the bite of the passing air. She was thankful for having forgone long hair. Simply put, Sarada was tense; her only solace being her proximity to her carrier. In a sense, she could feel him. In two senses, she could feel him but could not see anything. Her eyes had been fastened shut for the bulk of the past two hours, a transitory grimace adorning her face. She had been unable to acclimate to their method of travel and was furthermore incapable of falling asleep.
This section of woods was nothing short of terribly dark. Sasuke glanced at the river, his escort, to his right. It was a deep, murky blue and green and black, complementary of everything else surrounding them. He returned his gaze forward, landing with a tranquil step on the leaf-strewn ground, pushing off again into the overgrowth. The air was thick and painfully clear. Just minutes ago the sun had set, but it was already well past twilight and all that was visible was a despondent artist's palette worth of greens and browns in the trees, leaves and earthen floor. The moon must have been playing coy tonight.
Sarada thought she heard something splash, as though entering the river, but was not convinced. The bitter stillness surrounding them made it difficult to differentiate internal and external sounds.
The duo slowed down, Sarada discomforted by the effects of deceleration, as Sasuke made his way from branch to branch, descending. It took him three steps at ground level to come to a halt, a product of not having brought his speed under breakneck. The predecessor lulled for a moment in exhaustive inactivity before cueing his daughter to slip downwards onto her feet with an enabling motion of his arm. Sarada swiveled around, wavering, dazed, disoriented, unable to see much of anything, on two wobbly feet. She heard her father inhale with deliberation and exhale in moderation. If nothing else, she was grounded.
With leisurely steps, a gradual beckoning motion from his neck upwards and a judicious approach to conversation: "Here," Sasuke lead Sarada across the raw, root-furnished grove floor. Under the canvas of a particularly broad trunk Sasuke twisted downwards, settling cross-legged after a half-rotation, reclined against the tree. Sarada followed suit taking stage right, an arm draping itself generously across her shoulders and a mantle thereafter.
She was not sure for how long she had been asleep when a hand on the back of her hair, custodial in its work, brought her back to a comatose state of consciousness. Sarada's head was left to rest on Sasuke's now prone chest, his cloak enveloping her, save for her protruding face.
Conclusively, Sasuke let his eyes rest. To his dismay, obstructing his vision did not prevent his shirt from retaining water.