A/N : No, it's not a typo, it really is Kanuk, which is the name of a line of very very very warm (and very very very expensive) winter coats made in Québec, but is derived from the word Canuck (and you all know what that means. I'm personally still looking for where that word comes from). I guess you could call it a pun)… It was a one-shot too, like chapter 19, and I erased it (it only had one review… Ish's review, still, but it made more sense putting it here, in the story it belongs. Added a few lines at the end, too, to make it fit with the fact that Louis left.) Aaawwh, and sorry for the inter-cultural talk. I found it funny, so I added it.

Enjoy!

Kanuk

Josée reached up and pulled her black fleece scarf up to cover her nose. The ice cold air around her made her nose stuck and her throat ache with breathing, but her brand new goose down-stuffed coat kept her hot, and walking with snowshoes had proven to be more difficult than she thought, making her sweat under her three layers of shirts. The worst part of it all, she thought with a light snort, was that she actually enjoyed this walk in the woods.

She had followed Antoine back to his family in Québec for Christmas, and they were going back to Westchester for New Year's Day in two days. Antoine's family had gone crazy with her coming, and she thought she must've gained at least 10 pounds with all the tourtière*, six-pâte**, beans and maple syrup, pork-legs stew***, Christmas log and stuffed turkey she ate. She snorted again. Stuffed turkey at Christmas. Ha.

She ducked under a low branch, trying to keep her balance, but she startled a partridge who flew away with a cry and a lot of noise. Josée started, falling back in the four feet deep snow with a shriek. She heard Antoine laugh behind her, as she vainly struggled, her feet in the air and snow falling in her face, to get up. She soon saw a pair of aluminium snowshoe and Antoine loomed over her rabbit hole, a huge grin on his face. He had taken off his sunglasses to look at her, and his purple eyes twinkling with amusement were a startling contrast with his dark hair, black scarf and dark blue coat. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were red because of the cold. She glared up at him, helpless, and he laughed. "Having problems, Jo?"

"Nooo, I'm actually enjoyin' havin' my butt freezin' in the snow." He laughed again and crouched, presenting a gloved hand to help her up. The movement made some more snow fall down on her and she closed her eyes, feeling the cold stuff on her skin. "Haaaaa!" She reached out and grabbed his hand, but pulled down with all her might. He lost his balance with a surprised yelp, and fell face first in the snow next to her, making some more snow fall in her face and under her coat. She erupted into laugher, hearing him struggle to rise to his knees, and he soon looked at her, a smile on his face, his hair gone white with snow. He narrowed his eyes, but stood and presented his hand to her again. Giggling, she took it and he pulled her up. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me. I wanted to shove some snow into your coat for a few moments, but you would've caught a cold. I'll wait 'till we're home." He grinned down at her and she smiled sweetly at him, brushing the snow off her black suede coat. She fluttered her eyelids, trying to look innocent.

"Into my coat? That beautiful, brand new coat you gave me for Christmas? Why, you wouldn't want to ruin the leather, wouldn't you?" He snorted.

"It'll dry." He looked up at the dark blue sky, and then at west, where the sun was slowly setting. "We better turn back, if we want to get home before it's dark." Josée raised her eyebrows before glancing at the sunset.

"But it's not even 4 o'clock yet." He chuckled.

"It'll be dark at five, Jo. I know these woods, but it's as cold as the North Pole here at night." He began walking away, his aluminium snowshoes barely sinking in the snow and she sighed, following him.

They soon arrived in a clearing, and she gasped. They were at the top of a small hill, and had a beautiful view of the surroundings. Everything was white around, and she could see the townships covered in snow, the houses and barn the size of dices from her point of view. She could see smoke coming out of the chimneys, reminding her on how cold it was. The leafless trees were white with frosting, here and there a brave blue jay or a blackbird flying from branch to branch. And far behind, small white mountains she knew went all the way down to Vermont. She sighed. It was eerily beautiful, a sight she knew she would never see at home. "I think I'm beginnin' to understand why you love it here." He walked to stand next to her, watching the view as well, and smiled, but said nothing. "Do you miss that home, Toine?" He narrowed his eyes, scanning the landscape, and shook his head.

"I miss the cold, and the snow, and my family. But home is where you are, Jo." She turned to him, smiling, and snuggled in his arms. She looked up, smiling at the small golden owl embroidered on the large fleece lapel of his Kanuk coat. She looked up a little higher. He was still looking at the landscape, his eyes narrowed against the sun reflecting on the bright white snow. Puffs of condensation came out of his parted lips, and her heart tightened. He looked like he belonged here. All she wanted was to stand on her tiptoes and kiss him, but couldn't, partly because of her snowshoes, and her powers. She clenched her teeth. That would be her New Year's resolution. She would work like never before on her control over her powers, and would kiss him under the mistletoe next Christmas. Her fingers reached up and played with the golden owl. "What's its name?" He looked down at her and frowned.

"What?"

"Its name. These coats have names, don't they?" He chuckled.

"L'Otarie. Why?" She shrugged.

"Just curious. I find it funny how you guys name your coats." He laughed.

"When buying a coat empties your bank account, you give it a name and cherish it." It was her turn to laugh, and she fiddled with the embroidered owl again.

"Where does the name Canuck come from?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Why are you so curious all of a sudden?" She smiled up at him.

"Just wanted to know if you guys knew what name some people call you."

"I'm not a Canuck," he answered. "I though we Frenchies were called frogs." She giggled.

"Well you're bilingual. Which makes you half Canuck, half frog. And you haven't answered my question." He smiled.

"I don't know. It probably is an Indian word. Almost every city name is in Canada. Hell, even Canada is an Indian word."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Means 'village', or something of the sort." She giggled, and he pushed her back playfully. "Hey, at least it means more than just a bunch of states." She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side.

"Well at least we're not represented by a beaver." He raised an eyebrow and smiled wider.

"At least the beaver isn't an endangered specie." Her mouth dropped open in outrage and she started after him, but he was much faster than her on his snowshoes. She ended up falling in the snow again with a frustrated cry, and he laughed. He loomed over her again. "He builds stuff, dams, his house… Pretty cool animal actually, the beaver. Very hardworking." She sighed, exasperated.

"You know, you don't talk often, Antoine Bergeron, but when you do, you're a pain in the ass!" He laughed, making her even more angry, but didn't help her up. "Alright! Alright, you win! The beavers are cool animals. Only worth five cents, but cool nonetheless. Help me up, please!"

He helped her standing on her snowshoes again and brushed the back of her coat. He chuckled. "We better get home quick, your coat is all wet, and you'll catch a cold."

"Too late." She sniffed, and looked up at him. It was getting dark already, and a draft of cold wind washed over them, making her shiver. "I hate you." He saw her shiver and hugged her, rubbing her back.

"Non, you don't. You love me, and I love you." She smiled against his coat, and hugged him back, enjoying the warmth radiating from him.

"I do." She pulled back, resisting the urge to cuddle back against him when a deep shiver ran up her spine. He reached up and ran a gloved finger on her cold cheek, before pushing away a wet lock from her face.

"Me too." He smiled sadly. "You miss him a lot?"

She looked down, closing her eyes. "Like crazy. I still can't believe he left like that but…" She leaned in his chest, hiding her face in his coat. "I guess he thought he needed to. I'm gonna beat the crap out of him when he gets back, though, for not saying goodbye."

He chuckled sadly, and pulled back. "He'll be back soon, I'm sure. But as for now… Let's go home. I'm cold."

* spiced meat pie

** A kind of stew, cooked in the oven for a few hours, with six layers of dough with four kinds of meat in between: rabbit, deer or moose, duck and partridge. No need to say it's kind of an expensive dish, but very traditional in Québec at Christmas.

*** Not as disgusting as it sounds. Meat ball stew with potatoes, cooked with pork hocks (since it's really greasy, it gives taste to the broth. You don't usually eat the hocks, though).