The sun dipped low, painting the river in molten gold. Rosaline couldn's resist the lure of the outdoors while you wrestled with the tent poles, she drifted down to the water's edge, curious and wide-eyed. The river glittered, practically daring her to come closer.

Unfortunately, the mud had other plans. One wrong step and she landed squarely on her backside, the sound a perfect mix of squish and humiliation. For a moment she just blinked up at the sky, stunned, as if the world had glitched.

Trying to recover her dignity, Rosaline pushed herself upright only for her feet to betray her again. With a yelp and a splash, she toppled into the river. Cold water swallowed her whole, and as she surfaced, gasping, she felt her face flush hotter than the campfire waiting back at camp.

Dragging herself onto the bank, dripping and defeated, she wiped her muddy hands on her equally muddy pants. The river just carried on, calm and smug, as if nothing had happened. By the time Rosaline trudged back to camp, every step went squelch, squelch. Soaked, shivering, and thoroughly humbled, she dropped by the fire. The flames licked the air, warm and forgiving unlike the river.

She take off her wet clothes and realized that she have nothing to wear, everything has been soaked, even her sleeping bag. After dried herself, she hang them on a tree nearby and quietly enter the tent completely naked. "Look like we should... warm up each other, my boy?"