Son of a Witch

Bucky's hold tightened on Billy after feeling that shiver. It couldn't be comfortable, being held for so long and Bucky's arm a huge heatsink. But the cabin wasn't far; Bucky could see it through the snow, less than a mile.

"Few more minutes. Can see it, but don't look up, you'll only get snow in your face." True to its promise the storm had arrived with all its glory, wind and snow and cold. Bucky would be glad to get out of it. "Head down, deep breaths. I'm gonna jog us there, it's gonna get bumpy for you."

The sooner he got Billy indoors and got the fire started for both of them, the better. Even he could feel the weather's chill settling in deep. Fortunately the terrain between their current position and the cabin didn't contain any weird hazards; Bucky navigated it easily and soon ushered Billy inside to lock the door behind them.

The cabin itself was small but clean: most of the space went to the main room, with a pair of plain armchairs and a platform bed. A stone fireplace took up most of one wall. The opposite side of the cabin held a small bathroom and a kitchenette, neither fancy but adequate enough. A table folded against the wall, with two simple wooden chairs pushed against it. Heavy curtains covered the windows — heavier than usual, blackout material that not only provided insulation, but blocked most of the light seepage in or out.

Bucky immediately crossed to the fireplace; he'd stacked wood and kindling inside before he left, so all he'd need to do was light it. "Did your clothes get wet?"