"That so?" she asks, turning to him with genuine interest. She shakes her head as she looks around the misty morning.

"It don't get near so cold in Green Lake, this time of year. Maybe come the middle of January, when the weather's at it's coldest, we'll get a real hard frost. But I'm not used to this."

There's something serene about it, though. The utter stillness of the landscape around them, that thin fog laying like a blanket over the sleepy earth. The air is cold and fresh, and leaves a slight burn in her lungs as she inhales. And it's so, so quiet, there aren't any sounds, save for the crunch of their boots as they mosey along, and the occasional caw of a bird or hum of an insect.

"Sure pretty, though," she murmurs.