Neverwinter Forest Bullet train to Iowa.

Ceridwen’s description of last year’s outrageous snowfalls triggered a memory. It was as vague as they came, something about a cave, a snowstorm and a certain former mate of hers. She snorted in the present, easing further downward in the water so it lapped at her neck, then the fringes lining her cheeks, as her eyes stayed fixed on her young companion.

“I have a feeling that there are a lot of sins weighing you down…”

Towhee snorted again, right before she disappeared from view entirely. The hot water stung her face, particularly the delicate skin of her eyelids, and she felt a subtle popping sensation as it rushed into her deadened ear canals. She held her breath, naturally, and kept her eyes squeezed shut as she bobbed just under the surface for about thirty seconds.

Reemerging, she picked up the conversation without missing a beat, saying, Or I could just baptize myself, wash away all my sins, and spitting some water that had found its way into her mouth, flavoring it like… well, an old fart. She spat again. You’re really not coming in? The trick is to dry off thoroughly as soon as you get out, before you head back into the proper cold. I solemnly swear I won’t let you become a Popsicle…