The cold never once registered to him. Maybe it was a perk of being dead. The little things didn't matter as much, as did things that would normally bother a living being. He could barely make out that touch. It was light, something he could easily dismiss as haze in his sleep.

But he stirred slightly from it, letting out a breath as he shifted position. His head tilted up, exposing a bit more of his neck and chest. The sun warmed him somewhat and drove the fatigue from his bones.