Northrop National Park The cold earth slept below; Above the cold sky shone

[Max Kuryakin]

The clouds hung low in the sky, a looming promise of snow later that night. There was already a thin covering of the white stuff over the forest floor, patchy where it hadn't managed to pass through the tree cover. The lake hadn't frozen over yet, but the shoreside edged with ice predicted that it wouldn't be long until. Standing on the rocky shore, Max stared out over the frost rimmed landscape. Each movement or splash sent echoes over the water, the hush of the chill settling something strange in his chest.

Or was that the full moon? It wasn't hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles quite yet, but it was on its way, the faint outline of it in the daylight promising that inevitable fate of a werewolf. Max was still by the lake for a few more heartbeats, considering the deceptive peace and freedom of being out here. Free of human concerns, but not the curse he carried with him. He never would be, but he'd gone through his own Kubler-Ross model cycle many times over that the thought didn't hit as deeply as it had five years ago.

The werewolf breathed out, exhaled air misting in front of him and the chill threatened to creep down his throat as he then drew in a deep breath. Max shook off the moment, bending down to pick up the string of fish he'd caught. The rocky shore shifted underneath him, clacking and rattling as he started making his way onto the grassy edge. The reeds rattled as he passed them, shedding frost as they wobbled.

Max, for once, was wearing appropriate winter gear. A thick jacket, a fleece under that, gloves, proper hiking pants. He felt overheated, so he'd foregone a hat and the jacket was billowing open, but he was more bundled up than usual. As the sun dipped lower, he knew it'd only get colder, and getting started on the fish sooner rather than later meant he could actually eat it while he still had dexterous fingers.

The grass crunched under his boots as he trod that familiar path from the lake to his usual camping spot. It wasn't a long walk, the path well-defined enough that he didn't need to pay too much attention as he followed it. He could smell woodsmoke as he neared, but the column of smoke told him the fire he'd left was still going strong. It helped, he knew, that the swaddled lump by the firepit was pitifully poking at it with stick upon stick.

This time, he didn't try to be quiet as he approached from behind. She was miserable enough without him poking the dragon, so he came in close and leaned down to press his nose to the top of her head, a press of a kiss. “Alright, there?” he intoned, curling one arm around her shoulders from behind as he tossed the fish onto a nearby rock, freeing up his other arm.

[Emily Reyes]

If she didn’t love Max quite as much as she did, Emily would not have taken him up on his suggestion of winter camping. Winter camping! As if camping by itself was not miserable enough. She could see leaving the house in the winter-time being pleasant if there was a log cabin with a roaring fire at the destination, but willingly being outside like this was madness.

But she adored Max, and their schedules were busy, so she was willing to do practically anything to make time for them. Even this. Admittedly, it was also a relief to be off duty during the full moon. Something about this time of the month tended to make people a bit crazy, lycanthropy or no. It just seemed to be a human thing--Emily had only noticed it when she overheard one of the court reporters theorizing that they were about to get a slew of restraining orders through the system and when pressed on why, answered that the full moon was coming up.

Coincidence? Perhaps, but she wasn't quite willing to break the streak of 'almost normal' they'd had over the holidays. 'Almost normal' only because the strange and unusual were part of her life now; Juniper had eaten her weight in food over Christmas, which had been absurd to witness, and Emily had nearly blown up her kitchen sink pouring potions down the drain. However, they'd miraculously managed to sidestep the creepy doll fiasco down at the mall. Emily had even considered buying some for nieces, but when stories started coming through the grapevine about it's strange properties, she'd been relieved she was too busy with work and other functions.

Breaking up a few twigs, she threw them into the fire and was rewarded with a warm flare. She sighed, enjoying the heat on her face, but it faded all too quickly. Leaning forward on the log, she threw on a few more, watching the fire crackle merrily, and wondered how she would get through an entire night in the winter cold. Max did this for fun? The summer she could understand, but in winter? What was there to do but suffer?

Actually, in fairness- she supposed he had no choice, when it came to the full moon, but sometimes he was up here and there was nothing lunar going on at all.

The sound of footsteps pulled Emily from her rambling thoughts, and she straightened up, head turning just as Max leaned in and kissed the top of her head. The affectionate greeting pulled her thoughtful frown into a half smile, and she returned her gaze to the fire as he put an arm around her. She leaned back into him and then a bunch of fish flew past and she looked at their shiny limp bodies in mild surprise. “Oh, fish,” she said with an air of realization. It had taken her a moment to identify the bundle. Tipping her head back to smile up at Max, she went on, joking, “Not alright- I'm delirious with cold.”