Something rumbled against her, deep and soothing. It didn't quite pull her from the drifting state she'd slipped into. She was vaguely aware that she'd finally stopped shivering. That warmth had moved up her leg, adding to the body heat she'd wrapped around herself.

Someone had spoken. She ought to respond.

Her body demanded more rest, chakra pathways strained and providing no support. She shivered once, as if the cold was working its way out of her bones.

Someone had spoken. Someone she should talk to.

Tsume moved, face sliding up against more warm skin. Her body won out, and she slipped under again.

She dreamed about running through sleet, casting tracking jutsu, spilling her own blood, biting at fur-covered arms. Finding a cave with a fire and companions. Her skin burning from the inside out as they struggled to warm her. Shadows flickering.

The corner of her waking mind laughed. She wasn't that cold. This wasn't then.

Someone had spoken. She needed to respond. Her mouth opened, and her body demanded more rest, weary from fighting off cold and fear and pain and exhaustion.

The dream continued. Caves and fire, teammates and warm skin. The panting of arousal. The knowledge that they didn't want her. She was too weak. She'd already lost. Hands touching, stone around her wrists--

Someone had spoken. She had to answer. Tsume jerked awake, and pain washed the rest of the dream away. For a moment she lay perfectly still against a breathing man, trying to get her bearings. It didn't take long for memory to surface.

"Asuma," she croaked. Moving as little as possible, afraid the delicious warmth might vanish, she slid an arm up his chest and laid it against his neck.

If there were fever from the lashes, she wasn't sure she'd feel it yet. But it was still worth checking.