Russel shivered in his fur-lined cloak. “Can’t you do something about this?” he asked his wife.
“About winter?” she asked. “Of course I can’t. Weather magic is far beyond my skill and even then, it wouldn’t change the season.”
She clicked her tongue as he passed and shook her head.
“What?” he asked in a growl. The cold made his nose drip and his fingers ache. He hated winter with a passion and now he was forced out into it by their daughter and her grandmother. He would kill Helen when he saw her next.
Pandora reached out and pulled the hood of his cloak up. She ran her hands along the fur while whispering. “Better?” she asked.
He regretted his hostility. The hood felt like it had been sitting in front of a fire for the last hour instead of catching snow. “Yes, thank you.”
Pandora’s hand went to her throat. “Thanks? For me? Are you feverish perhaps? Maybe you need more than a heat spell.”
He didn’t dignify that with an answer. Not a verbal one.
He plucked a late bloom, shining with ice crystals, and handed it to her.