"Ooh, we should stay at the grand inn! We can afford it, right?" 

"You can afford it. I can afford it, for now, but I don't know how much gold we'll be pulling in."

"I suppose I could, but I would rather not. I do not even need to sleep right now, really."

"Oh, alright. It's not like I'm going to be able to ask my parents for more money, am I? The lesser inn, then?" 

"It serves our purposes."

The lesser inn is a noisy place, with a variety of options for the aspiring adventurer. For example, places to sleep can be cold, cramped, and private, or warm, noisy, and in the common room. Food can be reheated stew or roast chicken (very little) and vegetables (lots, mostly zucchini and squash), all served with the profusion of condiments normal to fallen tower cuisine. Drinks include beer that tastes like piss, sour wine, extremely strong local apple spirits, and ice-cold water that probably won't give you cholera. The patrons come in "secretive huddle of adventurers", "surly dwarves", and "drunk local", all willing to hold forth at length about the inn's inadequacy to anyone who will listen. The prices aren't even particularly good. Ossa has to be left with the wagon to prevent thefts while they sleep. The owner is a middle-aged orc with a missing eye who will cheerily inform the party of all of this - but it's still better than camping out in freezing rain or snow. 

Well if the prices here aren't great just imagine how much money they're saving not staying at the fancy inn!

Sida gets some stew and vegetables and finds a table.

They are saving So Much money!

Dyva will have chicken and vegetables, all doused in prodigious amounts of sour berry jam and chilli crisp, and a glass of the apple spirits. 

"Since we're now, you know, traveling and working together and everything, I invite you both to call me by my informal name. It's Sida."

"Oh nice! Thank you Sida! We don't have anything like that here, I think. Maybe dwarves do or something." She would have offered it to Sida months ago if she did, being chronically informal as she is. 

"I did not know you had more than the one. As you like, Sida."

"I would be kinda surprised if anyone here used canaanite naming conventions. Just one of the thousand little things that are different. I like some of them, though. The food here—in this world, not just this inn specifically—sucks a lot of the time, but people use a lot more flavors. The cuisine has got a lot more pizazz, or adventurousness, here than at home."

She takes another bite of some vegetables.

"Necessity turns the water-wheel of innovation, I guess. When you've got to eat a bunch of mushrooms, you'll find a way to make it work."

"Yeah! I love how every place I eat at has something new to put on my food! It's great! Variety is the spice of life, and spice is the variety of cooking!" 

After they finish eating, Sida gets a room and prepares to sleep. Shortly after, she returns.

"The rooms here are pretty cold. Hey Tarka, do you want to cuddle?"

"...No."

"Hey Dyva, do you—"

"Nope!" 

"Oh, well. Good night, fellas."

Obviously she can't use fireballs to stay warm, but maybe in the future she can work out a good way to transfer the heat into some kind of heat sink...

Inventing niche new spells to aid dubious life choices is the ritual mage's watchword! But probably someone has already invented this one. She can check the next time she's in a city, or maybe one of these little villages will have a local mage with a solution. 

The night will pass, eventually. The morning is clouded, gloomy, and totally failing to warm things up. Breakfast by the the fire helps. The inn provides unspiced stewed apples, overcooked scrambled eggs, and oily marinaded mushrooms for breakfast. It's almost tasty. Dyva has a coffee-pot and a supply of beans in the cart, so at least the morning can begin with stimulants as well, a fact for which the party gets a few envious looks. 

Soon enough, they are back on the road, moving through what is transitioning from orchards to empty rice-paddies. Still, many people can be seen hard at work. By mid-morning, it has started to snow, lightly, as the clouds above grow ever darker and denser. 

Dyva and Tarka not wanting to cuddle is an unfortunate choice on their parts, but she wouldn't go so far as to call it dubious.

Sida will gladly accept coffee. (Though the stimulants she could get at home were way better. She misses them.)

"Ooh. Snow is fun. It's a bit of an unfortunate time to be traveling, though. If only I had been hit by that truck a few months earlier... We should still make it to the mountains before it gets too cold, right?"

Tarka doesn't drink, or need, coffee.

"We cannot afford to take too many detours, but it is only a couple of weeks travel. We will make it."

There are many superior stimulants on the market, but they get real expensive if you want something that's going to reduce your reaction time to a negative number. 

"There's usually a month or two between the first snows and things getting properly frozen over. I'm more worried about my plants! My poor orchids." 

The next time they stop, she's going to go move a bunch of the smaller and more fragile pots into the carriage. 

"I feel like maybe you should have thought this through more? Anyways, do you want help with that?"

"I mean, I did think this through a lot! I didn't bring anything super-fragile and I can heal things that get majorly damaged and a lot of stuff is just going to shut down totally for winter, but like, being snowed on isn't good for lots of things even if I think I can get them through the winter! It's like - I have a plan for keeping them alive, I just need to execute the plan! And then have sympathy for anything that gets frostburn anyway, because plans aren't ever perfect. You can help if you want to, but I can handle it by myself."  

(She does in fact, have a carefully waterproofed crate for these pots inside the carriage, so they won't get dirt or water on anyone's possessions) 

"Oh, so when you say you're worried, you just mean generally anxious, not that there's something you haven't priced in."