There's a fireplace here. [Her voice is meeker than she would like it to be, but she doesn't look afraid. Only tired. There's little heat in the house without the fireplace, but the shelter keeps out the wind. It's a start, and it certainly doesn't hurt that she's bundled in blankets, thick duvets and warm knitted blankets.]
My father used to start the one in our cabin. I can't seem to get this one lit. [Abigail sniffles. Letting strange, dark men help her seems to be her thing. She isn't afraid though, just bitterly cold.]
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My father used to start the one in our cabin. I can't seem to get this one lit. [Abigail sniffles. Letting strange, dark men help her seems to be her thing. She isn't afraid though, just bitterly cold.]