Better to be cold now--socially, physically, it's all the same at the moment--than end up trapped within his arms later, especially when she doesn't have her knife. He gets the hint, luckily, and wobbles away to find himself a study branch. Beth, for part, just carries his jacket by the collar and wades through the snow, glancing his way once in a while. Digging her fingers into the fabric is enough to keep them a little warmer.

"You should keep your coat," she tells him, doing her best to toss it back over his shoulders when she spies a chance. He's still looking at his walking stick like it's his newborn son. "You might need it."