Morning came soft and warm.
The last of the frost had vanished from the porch railings, leaving behind wet streaks that glimmered under sunlight. Birds were singing again—faint, cautious sounds that echoed through the quiet valley. The forest below, once buried in white, was now alive with color.
For the first time in months, Riku didn't wake to cold air biting at his lungs. The cabin was warm, the stove still glowing faintly from last night's fire. He pushed off the blanket and stood, stretching stiff shoulders. Suzune was already up, stirring something in a pot by the counter.
"Morning," she said without looking back.
"Morning," Riku replied, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "What's cooking?"
"Soup. Again."
He gave a tired smile. "Can't complain."
"You always complain," Suzune said, smirking faintly.
"I call it constructive feedback."
Ichika's voice came from under a pile of blankets in the corner. "It's not feedback if all you say is 'needs meat.'"
