[i]February 18th[/i]

*if (yr1_01_04_20_c = true)
  You climb down the steps between the camper and ground, eyes groggy with sleep.
  The cold winter air hits you like a truck, and you shiver.

*if (yr1_01_04_20_c = false)
  You slip away from your little campsite inside the castle, eyes groggy with sleep.
  The dying embers of the fire barely touch the winter cold, and your breath shoots out of your mouth in visible puffs.
  Slipping on your sneakers, you trudge out of the room and down the steps to the unfinished kitchen, a path that has become well known to you in the last six weeks.
  Your eyes adjust to the darkness and begin to pick out the familiar silhouettes of construction tools and materials that await the crew's resumption tomorrow morning before you leave the scanty protection of the manor walls.

Only the meager light of the crescent moon illuminates your path.
You tug your coat closer to your body in a futile attempt to ward off the freezing temperature.

The darkness of the countryside reminds you of your childhood trips to your grandparents' farm in Eastern Kentucky.
You ward off additional memories, willing your brain to remain as inactive and ready to recommence sleep as possible.

Eyes half closed, you open the door to the hastily-constructed outhouse and lumber inside.
You wince as your exposed skin makes contact with the cold, cold toilet seat.
You hunch over, curling your body into a ball in a half-successful attempt to conserve what little heat you possess.
Your teeth begin to chatter.

Business complete, you remain immobile, for how long you don't know, anticipating the cold.
You gird your loins and make a break for it.

*finish