They reached out, brushing the fabric down and untangling it from her hair. Snowflakes clung to her eyelashes, melting into droplets that tracked down her cheek.
Tilly’s glove skimmed her jaw.
Just for a second.
But the second landed.
Savannah went still.
The storm howled.
Someone’s live shot echoed from the IFB.
The wind stung Tilly’s face.
Everything moved — except her.
And Tilly felt the moment hit like a warm pulse under cold skin.
They pulled their hand back fast. “Your scarf was messing with the frame.”
“Right,” she said, barely audible over the wind.
The line crackled in her ear. “Savannah, you’re up in twenty.”
Tilly stepped behind the camera, grateful for the barrier of the viewfinder. Their hands shook as they adjusted focus, but the image held sharp. Snow swirled around Savannah in violent eddies, her hood half down, her mic steady, her eyes locked on the script in her head.
She looked… composed.
Stormproof.
Stronger than anyone had any right to be in weather like this.
“Ten seconds,” Tilly said.
Savannah planted her boots, squared her shoulders, and pulled the mic closer to her mouth. Snow clung to her hood and lashes, swirling around her like static. She blinked once. Twice. Then she locked in, eyes sharp.
The tally light flipped red.
Savannah transformed as if someone had flipped a switch.
“This is Savannah Wells reporting live from South Boston,” she began, voice steady despite the wind trying to rip the sound away. “Conditions are rapidly deteriorating as this blizzard continues to move through the area.”
A gust slammed into them from the left, shaking the tripod. Tilly steadied it with one hand, the leg of the camera digging into their wrist through the soaked glove.
Savannah braced, leaning into the storm without missing a beat.
“Visibility is dropping by the minute,” she continued. Snowflakes stuck to her lips, her breath coming out in uneven bursts she tried to control. “The National Weather Service has now issued a full blizzard warning for Suffolk County, and officials are urging residents to stay off the roads if at all possible.”
Her scarf whipped up again.
Tilly moved without thinking, reaching out to pin the bottom edge of it down with a gloved hand just out of frame. Savannah’s eyes flicked to them for half a heartbeat — a shock of connection — before she snapped back to the camera.
She didn’t flinch.
She didn’t break.
She just kept going.
