Setting the wood down, a quizzical look comes to her face before she guesses that perhaps he's thinking of that group of soldiers he served with; wondering what they're doing now, and wondering about him. She knows going home means his death, and knows that he knows it too. But she can understand if he's thinking about those people back there. She'll just have to make sure he continues to be happy here.

"Good." She dusts off her hands before considering their surroundings and stooping down to collect a handful of snow, which she starts forming into a ball. Her bare hands feel the sting, but she ignores it. "Do you know we met almost a year ago, here in this valley? There were stars above, a warm bonfire, and I believe I recall a snowball fight."

Better duck fast, Church. She's flinging a snowball at you now.