Note: This 'blizzard' theme was a request by tumblr user throwaninkpot. It will probably be a two-shot.

I used/modified a few lines from Cress. This is for effect. I do not own the Lunar Chronicles. All credit goes to Marissa Meyer.

They'd been walking for far too long.

The cold wind swept over Cress's bare legs beneath her dress. The ropes holding together her make-shift shoes felt like icicles choking her feet with every step. She couldn't see them, but she could sense that her toes were probably blue. Her hair kept whipping into her eyes, making it difficult to see. She wished now that they hadn't cut it short before leaving the satellite. Cress knew she'd be warmer with her locks wrapped all around her body like a cocoon. Carswell Thorne probably wouldn't make fun of her hair then—in fact, he'd probably even appreciate its value.

If only they had landed somewhere else. Somewhere warm. Why had they been so unfortunate to fall into what appeared to be a mountain range? Cress shouldn't be thinking this way. Not now. Not when only two days ago she'd been trapped on her satellite in space. She was free. They were on Earth. They were…

They were still trekking downward, away from the peek, practically stumbling down the hill. It was clear that they had made the wrong choice. They should have just stayed in the satellite, where at least they would be safe from the wind and bitterly dropping temperatures outside. But there was no use in looking back at what could have been. Thorne had insisted that the longer they stayed in the satellite, the more likely they were to die. They were too far away from civilization, it seemed, for a passerby to notice a small Lunar satellite up in the mountains. He said they would run out of food before they could get help. They had no way to contact anyone.

She also suspected that after one awkward night of sleeping on the floor in the satellite, he probably wasn't too keen on repeating the experience. To be fair, she'd offered to let him sleep in her bed, but he had declined, after laughing a bit at the idea. "We're not married yet, darling," he'd said while winking at her. After musing that a man who couldn't see could still use his eyes to make her pulse quicken, Cress hadn't been sure of how to respond. He had probably been joking, but the idea of being married to Captain Carswell Thorne still made her swoon. She'd waited so long to meet him, and now she had him all to herself.

Except nothing had gone the way she'd planned. The net dramas hadn't done a good job of preparing her for the harsh realities of real interactions between men and women in danger. The hero didn't just come in and sweep the damsel in distress off her feet. He had work to do instead. He had to plan their escape from the enemy. He had to help them survive. And that was precisely what Thorne had done instead of spending his time trying to seduce Cress, as she had fantasized. She'd described the mountainside view to him as best as possible once they had landed and come to terms with what had happened with Sybil. They'd calculated what might be the best path down the mountain considering her lack of outdoor-wear and Thorne's inability to see.

They hadn't counted on the cold weather sneaking up on them at the onset of the second evening. Nor on the murderous clouds that stalked them as they hurried down as fast as they could. The clouds were beautiful to Cress, but Thorne insisted they were bad news. A storm was coming, he said. Thorne's silent determination edged her on, even though she was the one who guided him. After hours of talking and getting to know each other as they walked (and stumbled), the freezing temperatures had stopped any conversation they might have had otherwise. Now they were just two bodies, together yet alone, trying to beat the looming clouds.

"You-you-you a-are an ex-explorer," she tried to tell herself, but her chattering teeth barely let the words leave her lips.

"You say something?" Thorne said next to her. His lips were as blue as her toes felt. He'd given her his leather jacket a few hours ago. She had tried to protest, but he'd insisted. He now carried only their pack of supplies and a towel that he had wrapped around his shoulders to protect himself from the wind. The few dresses that Cress owned were much too small for him, and much too summery to keep her warm.

Something chilly hit her arm, but it wasn't the usual wind. It was something wet. She looked at her arm but couldn't see anything. Whatever it was had already disappeared. She felt the wet chilly feeling a few more times, and then she heard Thorne curse.

He pulled her back with the hand that he held firmly on her elbow as they walked. "Cress, is it snowing?"

Cress looked up with excitement. Small, distinct flecks of something were falling towards them. They disappeared when they hit the ground. She filled with glee.

Snow.

"It's so—"

"Yes, yes, beautiful," Thorne interrupted her harshly. "The trees are beautiful, the rocks are beautiful, the horizon is beautiful, and the clouds are beautiful. This is serious, Cress. We have to get ahead of the storm."

She bit her lip and shivered, embarrassed at her enthusiasm just moments ago. She tried to pick up the pace and walk quicker, but after another hour of walking, it was clear they couldn't beat it. They were right in the middle of it. And if she thought she was freezing earlier, she had been severely mistaken. Cress could barely move one foot in front of the other. If it weren't for a deep need to not disappoint Thorne, she would give up and fall into the snow. But she had to keep going. She wouldn't be the one who let both of them die. Thorne was relying on her just as much as she was relying on him.

"New plan," said Thorne. "Going down isn't helping us at all. Eventually, one of us is going to slip and break something. Let's pick a direction and try to find shelter under the trees. There are still tress, aren't there?"

Cress hesitated. "Yes, but I thought you said it was important to stay out of the woods as much as possible. So people can spot us better away from the trees."

Thorne shook his head. "Not anymore. There won't be anyone out in this weather, and we don't even know if we're on a real path or not. It could just be an area that isn't as populated with trees. I can't know for sure without seeing." He paused, frustration etched all over his face. Cress wanted to make him feel better, but she was too cold to think of anything. As if she could. She had no idea what it was like to be blind.

"Just pick a direction," he said finally. "We have to go into the woods. Find shelter."

The dark woods to her right filled her with dread. The idea of walking any more consumed her with hopelessness. "Snow is supposed to be romantic," she whispered, unable to hide her anxiety and disappointment. She released his hand from her elbow, afraid that he would hear her begin to cry. He'd been very clear about his no-tolerance policy for crying while they were trying to survive. She trembled, unable to keep her voice from breaking anymore. "Ro-romantic."

"Cress," said Thorne in exasperation. "I hate to break this to you, but we are freezing, wet, and haven't brushed our teeth in two days. This just isn't a good time for romance."

Her fantasy of frolicking in the snow with Captain Carswell Thorne vanished as soon as it had appeared. He was right. This wasn't romantic at all. She was still crushed at the revelation, though.

"However," Thorne continued, fumbling for her elbow again until he found it. His hand was a block of ice against her numb skin. "Under more normal circumstances, snow can be romantic." He smiled wistfully, as if remembering a fond memory. The thought of him playing in the snow with another girl made her stomach twist uncomfortably. "Now, we have to keep going, Cress."

She sniffed.

"I need you to guide us, Cress. I can't do this without you."

"Um," she said, looking into the woods again. "We're going this way." She pulled him with her as she stumbled towards the woods.

"I'm so cold," she said when they were covered by a thicket of trees. Thorne had been right. The snow was less intense here. But it didn't make her teeth chatter any less.

Thorne pressed his lips into a line. "Keep moving. We have to keep moving."

"It's getting harder to walk," she replied, afraid to hear his answer. He didn't get mad though, as she had expected.

"It's going to be fine," he insisted, though she could see that his lips were just as blue as before. His arms were red and chaffed, just like her bare legs.

"I—I think I see something," she said, surprising herself as much as Thorne.

"What is it?" he asked excitedly. "Do you see someone?"

"No," she said. "But on a rock over there, there's a sign. With writing," she added.

"A sign?" he asked. "Let's get there. Quick."

She rushed forward and felt Thorne collide with her as she came to an abrupt stop in front of the rock. They fell into a heap in the snow.

"Whoa," said Thorne, pushing himself off of her. "Are you okay?"

"Let's just get up," she mumbled. He held out his hand for her and she grabbed it, feeling as though her limbs might snap off from the effort.

"Well, what does the sign say?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said dejectedly. "It's in a language I can't understand."

Thorne's face fell. Then determination set in. "This has to be a trail marker of some sort. Do you see anything at all that could point us to help? An arrow? Colored lines?"

"Colored lines?"

"Yes, hikers use them to mark the correct way on a path."

She squinted into the woods. "No, I don't see anything. But I guess the sign could look a bit like an arrow."

"Lead us in that direction," said Thorne enthusiastically. "It's better than nothing."

And it was.

Not more than fifteen minutes into the woods, Cress saw it. She stopped dead in her tracks, but this time she steadied Thorne's arm enough so he wouldn't collide with her back again.

"There's a house."

"A house? Here?" Thorne's frozen face had lit up.

"Well, it's a little house," she said. "It looks like it might only have one room. It's made of wood. But it's—"

"It's beautiful!" Thorne shouted, before collapsing to his knees. He immediately started shaking almost uncontrollably. Cress touched his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Le-let's just get in the c-cabin." Thorne's teeth were chattering now too. She wondered if they had been all along, but that he'd somehow just managed to hide it from her. Cress pulled him up this time, feeling a rejuvenated sense of energy within her at the thought of getting out of the snowstorm. When they reached the cabin—as Thorne had called it—they discovered that it was deserted. No one answered their knocks. No lights turned on at their calls for help. Finally, Thorne just told her to try to open the door. It didn't budge.

"Put me a few feet in front of the door, and then get out of the way," he commanded. Cress obeyed. Thorne kicked at the door until it flew open. They were in.

"Describe," said Thorne, shutting the door behind him. It swung back open again, and he leaned against it to hold it in place. Cress described as well as she could. Though it was fairly dark in the cabin, she could still tell that it had clearly been abandoned for the winter. The room reminded her a bit of her satellite, with everything except for the bathroom in the same space. There was a small sink and a small table with a chair in one corner of the room. On the other side, there was a single, lonely bed. She swallowed hard and thanked the stars that Thorne couldn't see her blush when she told him. Cress was sure that she caught him smirking anyway. "Get the chair," he said.

She brought it over, and he placed it in front of the door to keep it from opening on its own. "That should do it."

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"We need to get warm," he said. "Come here."

Cress came to stand next to him, and he wrapped his arms around her. "Aces you're freezing."

She shivered and tried to wiggle out of his embrace. "Not as much as you."

He held her tighter though. "Stay," he said. "Body heat is good right now."

"Can't we just see if there are some blankets?" she asked.

He dropped his arms immediately. "Oh, good point."

Cress felt stupid for practically forcing Thorne to stop hugging her, when two days ago that was all she had wanted. She was too cold to dwell on it for more than a second, though. She opened every little cupboard or drawer she could find, and finally located a large blanket stowed under the bed. "Got one."

"Don't put it on yet. Help me get to the bathroom first."

Cress set the blanket on the bed and took his hand. When they got to the bathroom, he had her turn on the sink. The water came out freezing. It didn't warm up. Thorne cursed again.

"Okay," said Thorne, running a hand through his thick hair, "this is just a small setback. We're going to be fine." He hesitated. "The priority is still to get as warm as possible. We have to take off some of our clothes."

Cress gasped audibly. Thorne held up his hands defensively. "I'm not implying anything here, so don't get any ideas. This is Survival 101, plain and simple. Get out of your dress and put on the extra one we brought in the backpack."

Cress blinked, trying to recover from her shock before. "Can you get out of the bathroom then so I can change?"

Thorne waved a hand in front of his eyes. "Blind?"

She went to grab her things out of the backpack, but felt incredibly uncomfortable with him standing there, despite knowing he was blind.

"Hurry up, Cress, we really need to get warm. We probably have hypothermia by now."

"Can you just—please—"

"Fine," he said, and shut himself in the bathroom. Cress hurried out of her wet dress and into her dry one. It felt incredible. She shyly opened the door to find Thorne sitting leaning against the sink. He raised an eyebrow.

"Are you presentable?"

"Yes," she muttered. Then something occurred to her. "But what about you? You don't have an extra dress. I mean—extra clothes. You don't have extra clothes."

He shrugged. "I have an undershirt on. It's mostly dry. It'll have to do. Go get in the bed and wrap the blanket around you."

She moved a few steps toward the bed, but made the mistake of looking back. She froze. He had discarded the towel over his shoulders. Cress then watched, mesmerized, as Thorne peeled his shirt off of his body. His abs peeked out as the movement pulled up his undershirt too.

Cress thought she might die. She was alone, in a cabin in the woods, with Carswell Thorne. And he was taking off his shirt. But then something else happened. He unbuckled his pants, and slid out of them. She squeaked and covered her eyes with the blanket, warm heat rushing to her face. Despite her embarrassment, the sensation made her ice cold cheeks feel a bit better. When she dared peak out from behind the blanket, she saw that he was wearing blue shorts. She sighed in relief, but it came out like another high-pitched squeak.

"Sorry," he muttered, looking embarrassed. It was an odd look for him. "I can't afford to stay wet. I'm already blind. I refuse to get sick too."

"Why are you wearing shorts?" she asked him.

Thorne laughed, sounding relieved. "Oh. They're called boxers. They're...a different kind of shorts." He laughed again. "Nevermind. Are you in bed yet?"

"No."

"Well, why not?" he said. "Let's go, Cress."

"Okay," she whispered, feeling suddenly nervous. She laid down on the old mattress and pulled the blanket over her. Its warmth felt marvelous, but she was still shivering beneath it. Thorne walked to the edge of the bed and sat down. He almost squished her in the process.

"Move over," he said, already squeezing in beside her. "There's no way I'm sleeping on the floor tonight. Body heat, remember?"