Snow melted slowly that week.Every morning, the white outside the lodge thinned just a little more, revealing patches of dark soil and dead grass. The trees, once coated in frost, began to drip steadily, each drop echoing softly in the still air.
Inside, life had settled into a rhythm. Riku woke first every day, checked the perimeter, cleaned his rifle, and returned just as the others stirred. Suzune handled the stove and the small chores that made the place livable. Ichika, grumbling as always, kept the fire going and repaired what she could find around the lodge.
It wasn't much of a home, but it was home enough.
That morning, Hana was helping Ken fold the blankets when Ichika spoke up. "Hey, boss man, when are we moving out of this frozen hell?"
Riku didn't look up from the map he was studying. "When it's safe to travel again."
"Define 'safe.'" Ichika leaned against the table. "Because the last time you said that, we almost got blown up by pyromaniacs in gas masks."
