The deeper we went, the quieter it got.
Even the wind, which had been howling outside like a starving wolf, fell completely silent—cut off by thick stone walls and winding tunnels. Only our footsteps echoed faintly off the damp, icy ground.
Alice kept close behind me, her sword half-drawn, eyes sharp and scanning every corner. She wasn't afraid, but she was tense. Every sense on high alert.
I paused at a fork in the path.
Left led into a wider corridor—more open space, more room for movement. That's where most would instinctively go.
But the right tunnel? Narrow. Almost hidden behind a fallen boulder and crusted with old frost.
I crouched, brushing my fingers over the rock.
Warm. Just barely—but enough to matter.
"There," I said, pointing to the narrow opening. "That's where the cub is."
Alice furrowed her brow. "How can you be sure?"
I smiled faintly, keeping my voice low. "Because it's warm, and the snow lions aren't stupid. They'd keep their young where it's safest."
