He almost refuses the boots. It's the demand of the little voice saying resist resist resist - and it's equal parts practicality and numb resignation that make him drag them underneath the blanket to put them on. He has to peel off the extra layer of shredded jeans first.

Oliver watches Jack sort his find out without speaking. He still has one distinct advantage in all of this. The spirit really doesn't want to hurt him. If that includes accidentally freezing him, that means they'll have to move soon. That thought revives Oliver enough to eat another chunk of what's in the bag, portioning it out so he has enough to get by for a day or two of steady travel before he's in trouble. Somehow, he needs to find a way to carry some of the snow - he'll need water more than food out there.

He tugs the edge of the blanket forward to cover more of his face. He hates being patient. Sometimes, though, the odds are better when you wait.