10-16-2008, 10:34 PM
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It was considerably colder, to the point that he didn't care for it much. For a man who had been used to wandering the deserts, the eastern Canadian weather had been unkind through the latter part of the autumn. The winds picked up, the rains died down, and the chill in the air was definitely there. Laurel was half-awake when Nikita's voice filtered down through the morning quiet; her shape was a silhouette against the back-lit surroundings as he sat up. Though his bearings weren't entirely there and he had an ever brewing headache to follow motion, he was well aware of the tone of her voice. Answering her first with a muffled sound, he cleared his throat to speak. “What's wrong?”[/html]