Moana looked towards the fire, watching as the flames licked up the side of the wood. She was always surprised at how often she thought of tongues and teeth when she watched fire, like the heat was somehow alive, wanting to devour more than it's given.

"It's a good thing we have a fire." She spoke in a dreamy voice before turning back towards Benedict. "Someone cut a lot of wood. We should be fine."

Moana didn't mind complaints. She was used to placating those in her village and comforting someone who was uncomfortable had become second nature to her. Moana disliked the cold but complaining about it only did so much to help with the dagger like feeling that followed the plummeting temperatures.

"I might sleep by the fire." She really didn't do well in the cold and while she had a fur lined cloak that she'd been given, it wasn't as warm as a fire.