The chill breeze of the night blows through the opening in the front of the wagon. It's cold enough that when it hits my face I stir from my sleep.
I roll over with a grunt and try to bury myself deeper in Lucas' shirt to ward off the annoyingly cold breeze.
...Lucas' shirt is apparently a pillow right now, as well as Lucas himself.
Lucas more than his shirt, admittedly, but his shirt is soft and provides easy hand-holds.
He's also a heater, because this wagon is drafty and it always being on the move only increases that breeze. As proven by the blankets doing nothing to stop me from getting woken up by that rude gust of night air.
I attempt to shift a bit more, only to realize the weight I've felt on my waist since I woke up isn't my imagination.
At some point while I've been asleep with Lucas, a certain little rascal of a girl made her way from her usual bed in the wagon to curl up against my back.
