"Are you ready?" I asked, glancing at her with a hint of concern as I noticed she'd only brought a weapon.
No food, no backpack, not even a coat to guard against the biting cold. I couldn't help but worry that she'd freeze out here. But then again, she'd lived her whole life in this unforgiving place. Maybe the cold barely fazed her, the way Canadians or people from icy regions back on Earth could shrug off what others would consider unbearable.
"I am," she replied, her voice steady, betraying not a hint of hesitation.
She was dressed in form-fitting clothes that accentuated her athletic figure, garments designed for agility rather than warmth. In a different time, under different circumstances, I might've imagined her surrounded by admirers. But this was hardly the moment for such thoughts.
