Cera was already awake by the time Tria stirred at the threshold of the cave, and she was trying her best get back to sleep. She was still on her side, her eyelids were squeezed shut so tightly that her brow and snout were wrinkled, and if one looked very, very closely, they could see the vein on her neck was throbbing in irritation.
The cold had woken her up about an hour ago, and it most definitely was not on her accord, oh no. The moment she realized she was awake, Cera self-diagnosed herself with what she affectionately liked to call TFES: Too Friggin Early Syndrome. Symptoms of this deadly malaise include joints that felt like gravel, eyelids that felt like sharp rust, a supreme feeling of grumpiness and irritability without any of the feeling of satisfaction of being grumpy and irritable, a pathological hatred of light, the sun, day time, her life, and the lives of those around her, and a strong desire to drop off the face of the earth into oblivion.
After she had creaked her eyes open to see her position in the cave, she saw why she had woken up so early: she had fallen asleep too close to the cave entrance. What was more, it was now snowing.
She hated that! It was like she was being punished for a mistake she didn't make that she couldn't even take back! Now she was in a torturous state of body where she hadn't had enough sleep to get all the benefits of a full night of rest, but she had already slept too much now to go back to sleep. She had been trying in vain for the last hour to lull herself back to a light doze, and felt increasingly resentful as she couldn't.
When she heard Tria get up, she actually gritted her teeth together. She was going to have to get through the morning feeling like crud.
She rolled onto her feet, eyes squinted hard to block out the burning light coming through the haze of the snow, and in a gravely tone said: "I guess never trust dad for a weather report."