Valeria woke up warm.
It was a disorienting sensation. For the last three days, waking up had meant shivering in a damp shed. But today, she was buried under a pile of scratchy wool blankets in the farmhouse's armchair living room.
She shifted, her neck stiff from the awkward angle. A heavy weight was resting on her feet.
She peeked over the edge of the blanket.
Silas was curled up on the rug, his head resting on her boots. He was asleep, but his ears twitched at the sound of her movement. Further away, near the door, Kael sat with his back to the wall, arms crossed, chin on his chest. He was guarding the entrance even in sleep.
Valeria felt a strange lump in her throat. In her previous life, she had died alone in an office at 3:00 AM, surrounded by unfiled paperwork. Now, in this hostile world, she was surrounded by lethal predators who were using their bodies to keep her warm.
"You're awake," a voice rasped from the corner.
Ignis was sitting at the dining table. He looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes prominent against his pale skin, but he was upright. He was organizing a pile of scrap paper he had scavenged from the house.
"How long have you been up?" Valeria asked, pushing the blankets aside and gently dislodging Silas, who grumbled but rolled over.
"I didn't sleep," Ignis said, not looking up. "Generals don't sleep when the perimeter is unsecured. Also, I was taking inventory."
He slid a piece of paper toward her as she approached the table.
"It is grim," Ignis stated. "We have three sacks of flour. Half a barrel of pork. Two bushels of those purple roots you found. And zero firewood. The Garnetts burned the furniture in the guest rooms rather than chop wood."
Valeria rubbed her face. "And the weather?"
"Turning," Ignis said, gesturing to the window. The sky outside was a heavy, leaden grey. "The wind has shifted to the North. The first snow will fall by tonight. If we don't have wood, the Shark will freeze. His skin requires humidity, but his blood is cold. He cannot regulate his temperature on land."
Valeria looked at Caspian, who was sleeping near the hearth where the embers were dying. He was shivering again.
"Okay," Valeria said, her librarian brain kicking into logistics mode. "Priority one is fuel. Priority two is meat. Priority three is clothing."
She looked down at her own dress. It was a ruined silk gown, stained with mud and blood, offering zero insulation. The husbands were worse off, wearing rags that barely covered their scars.
"Wake them up," Valeria ordered.
Ten minutes later, the household was assembled. They looked better than yesterday, cleaner and more alert, but the anxiety in the room was palpable. They knew winter was a death sentence for the poor.
"Assignments," Valeria announced, standing by the fireplace. "Kael, Silas. You are the strongest. You're on hunting duty. We need meat that can be salted and furs that can be tanned. Ignis says the woods behind the estate are stocked with Deer-Boars."
Kael frowned, his golden brows drawing together. "I'm not leaving you."
"I'm staying in the house," Valeria said.
"Alone," Kael countered. "With a cripple, a fish, and a bird. If the Garnetts come back with mercenaries, you are defenseless."
"I am not a cripple," Ignis snapped, though his hands shook slightly on the table.
"I can bite," Caspian offered helpfully from the floor.
"No," Kael growled. "Silas goes. I stay."
"Silas is a loose cannon," Valeria argued. "He needs a handler. If he runs into a villager and attacks, we lose our legal standing. You have to lead him."
Kael looked torn. His instinct to protect the "Pack Leader" was warring with his logic.
"I will keep the door locked," Valeria promised. "And I have Caspian. If anyone breaks in, he can... lubricate the floor and make them slip."
It was a weak joke, but Caspian smirked.
"Fine," Kael relented. He stood up, grabbing a rusted hatchet from the pile of tools they had recovered. He looked at Silas. " Wolf. Hunt."
Silas's eyes lit up. He scrambled to his feet, tail wagging. "Hunt! Meat!"
Kael paused at the door. He turned to Valeria. "If we aren't back by sundown, bar the door and don't open it for anyone. Not even the Gods."
"Understood. Go."
As the two alpha predators vanished into the grey morning, the house felt suddenly smaller.
"Caspian," Valeria said. "Your job is water. Fill every container we have. Buckets, pots, the trough. If the pipes freeze, we'll need a stockpile. Then, chop whatever wood you can find in the yard. Old fences, dead trees. Anything."
Caspian nodded and went out the back, moving slow but steady.
That left Ignis and Lucian.
Ignis was already back to his papers, drawing a map of the estate. He was useful, occupied.
But Lucian...
The Phoenix sat in the corner, pulling at a loose thread on his rags. He looked miserable. He was the only one who hadn't received a direct order.
"Mistress..." Lucian whispered, his voice trembling. "What about me?"
Valeria looked at him. He was small, frail, and his red hair was patchy where the stress had made it fall out. He looked like a broken doll.
"I'm useless," Lucian answered his own question, tears welling up in his large, amber eyes. "I can't hunt. I can't chop wood. I can't even fly. I'm just a plucked chicken."
Valeria sighed. She walked over and knelt in front of him.
"You aren't useless, Lucian. You're traumatized. There's a difference."
She reached out and took his hands. They were cold, his fingers long and slender, tipped with nails that were more like talons.
"You have dexterous hands," she observed.
"I used to play the harp," Lucian sniffed. "Before... before the market."
"Good," Valeria said. "Then you have fine motor control. I have a job for you. A critical one."
Lucian looked up, hope fragile in his eyes. "Really?"
"We are going to freeze to death if we don't fix these clothes," Valeria said. "I need a Tailor."
"I... I don't have needles. Or thread."
"Leave that to me," Valeria said, standing up. "Go to the master bedroom upstairs. Gather all the curtains. The velvet ones. Strip the linens from the beds. Bring everything to the living room."
Lucian nodded vigorously, scrambling up to obey. He finally had a purpose.
Valeria watched him go, then turned to the pantry. She needed to access the Library.
Inside the Space, Valeria hurried to the [Home Economics] section.
She didn't have a "Tailoring" skill, but she had a book: "Survival Stitching: How to Repair Gear in the Wild."
She also had her daily item extraction.
She closed her eyes and visualized what she needed. Not a sewing machine, that was electronic and too complex. She needed a kit.
Extract.
A heavy, wooden box appeared in her hands. She opened it. Inside was a comprehensive sewing set: steel needles of various sizes, spools of heavy-duty thread, shears, and a thimble.
It wasn't magic, but in a world where steel needles were expensive commodities, it was a treasure.
She exited the Space.
When she returned to the living room, Lucian had created a mountain of fabric. Heavy burgundy velvet curtains, moth-eaten wool blankets, and linen sheets.
"This is good," Valeria said, setting the box down.
Lucian opened the box and gasped. "Steel needles! High-carbon steel! Mistress, these are worth a silver coin each!"
"Then don't lose them," Valeria said. She picked up a curtain. "We need cloaks. Heavy ones. Double layered. Wool on the inside, velvet on the out. Can you do it?"
Lucian touched the needles reverently. His eyes narrowed, the weepiness vanishing, replaced by an artist's concentration.
"The stitch needs to be tight to keep the wind out," he muttered to himself. "I can use the linen for lining... yes. I can do it."
"Get to work," Valeria said. "I'll help with the cutting."
For the next four hours, the living room became a workshop.
Valeria was terrible at sewing. Her stitches were uneven and clumsy. But Lucian... Lucian was a machine. His hands moved with a blur of speed, his talon-like nails acting as natural guides for the fabric. He didn't just sew; he engineered. He created hoods, reinforced seams, and even added pockets.
As he worked, he began to hum. It was a soft, melodic tune, hauntingly beautiful. The song of a Phoenix.
Ignis looked up from his map, watching the boy. "He hasn't sung in a year," the Dragon murmured to Valeria.
"Productivity is the best therapy," Valeria replied, biting a thread.
By mid-afternoon, they had five heavy, patchwork cloaks. They weren't fashionable, looking like a mix of royal drapes and peasant rags, but they were thick and warm.
"Try yours on," Valeria told Lucian.
Lucian stood up and draped the smallest cloak over his shoulders. The burgundy velvet dragged on the floor, swallowing his thin frame. He pulled the hood up.
He looked in the reflection of the window. He didn't see a plucked chicken. He saw a red-robed mage.
"It's warm," he whispered. He turned to Valeria and beamed. It was the first genuine smile she had seen on him. "I did this?"
"We did this," Valeria corrected. "But mostly you."
Suddenly, the front door rattled.
Valeria froze. Kael wasn't due back for another hour. And Kael wouldn't rattle the door; he would kick it or call out.
Ignis stood up instantly, grabbing his cane. "Someone is here."
Valeria motioned for Lucian to hide behind the sofa. She picked up the sewing shears, opening them into two jagged daggers.
"Who is it?" she called out, keeping her distance from the door.
"Open up, Elise!" a female voice shouted from outside. It was high-pitched, demanding, and dripping with false sweetness. "I brought you a housewarming gift!"
Valeria's memories clicked.
Mara.
The Village Chief's daughter. The girl who wanted Kael.
Valeria looked at Ignis. The Dragon's eyes were cold. "The rival," he hissed.
"Let her in," Valeria said, lowering the shears but hiding them in the folds of her dress. "If we don't, she'll just peep through the windows and see we have supplies."
Ignis hobbled to the door and unlocked it.
Mara breezed in as if she owned the place. She was a pretty girl in a rural sort of way, wearing a clean cotton dress and a fur shawl. She held a basket covered with a cloth.
She stopped dead when she saw the room.
She expected misery. She expected Elise crying in the dirt.
Instead, she saw a warm fire. She saw piles of expensive velvet fabric. She saw Ignis, the "crippled lizard," standing upright and glaring at her with aristocratic disdain. And she saw Elise, sitting in the armchair like a queen, wearing a heavy, custom-made cloak.
"Mara," Valeria said coolly. "To what do I owe the displeasure?"
Mara blinked, her eyes darting around the room. "I... I heard the Garnetts left. I thought you might be starving. My father sent some bread."
She held out the basket. It smelled of stale yeast.
"How charitable," Valeria said dryly. "Put it on the table."
Mara didn't move. She was looking for something. "Where is he? Where is the Tiger?"
"Hunting," Valeria said.
"Hunting?" Mara laughed, a cruel, tinkling sound. "With that leg? He'll be eaten by a rabbit. You really are cruel, Elise, sending a cripple out to die in the snow."
"His leg is fine," Valeria said.
"Don't lie," Mara sneered. She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Look, Elise. We both know you're done for. Sell him to me. I'll give you ten silver coins. That's enough to get you a carriage ride to the city. I'll take care of him. I'll make him a house pet. He won't have to work."
Valeria stared at the girl. This was the banality of evil in this world. It wasn't just dark lords; it was neighbors who wanted to own people as pets.
"He isn't for sale," Valeria said.
"Everything is for sale!" Mara snapped. "Stop pretending! You're a beggar princess! You—"
The back door slammed open.
A gust of freezing wind blew into the kitchen, carrying the scent of fresh blood and wet fur.
Kael stomped into the living room.
He was magnificent. He was shirtless, despite the cold, his skin steaming. Over one shoulder, he carried the carcass of a massive, tusked boar that must have weighed three hundred pounds.
He dumped the boar onto the floor with a wet thud.
He wiped blood from his mouth—boar blood—and looked at Mara.
Mara gasped. She stared at his legs. His strong, straight, perfect legs. She stared at his chest, broad and scarred, rippling with power.
"Kael?" she squeaked.
Kael ignored her. He looked at Valeria.
"Meat," he grunted. "And Silas caught a rabbit."
Silas bounded in behind him, holding a dead hare in his mouth, looking incredibly proud of himself.
Valeria stood up. She walked over to Kael. She reached up and wiped a smudge of dirt from his cheek.
"Good work," she said softly.
She turned to Mara. The village girl was pale, her mouth hanging open. The "cripple" she wanted to buy as a pet was a seven-foot tall apex predator who had just hauled a monster home.
"As you can see," Valeria said to Mara, "my husband is quite capable of taking care of me. We don't need your bread. Or your copper."
Mara took a step back, terrified by the sheer presence of the Tiger. Kael growled, a low rumble that made the windows vibrate.
"Get out," Kael said.
Mara dropped the basket and ran. She didn't even close the door.
Ignis walked over and kicked the door shut.
"She will tell the village," Ignis noted. "She will tell them Kael is healed. And that you are... not destitute."
"Let them talk," Valeria said. She looked at the massive boar. "We have food. We have clothes."
She picked up one of the velvet cloaks Lucian had made and threw it at Kael.
"Put this on," she ordered. "You're bleeding on the rug."
Kael caught the cloak. He looked at the fine stitching. He looked at Lucian, who was peeking out from behind the sofa, looking terrified of Kael's judgment.
Kael swung the cloak over his shoulders. It fit perfectly.
"It's warm," Kael grunted. He nodded at Lucian. "Good job, bird."
Lucian flushed bright red, hiding his face in his hands.
Valeria smiled. It was a small victory. But as she looked out the window, she saw the first flake of snow drift down from the grey sky.
Winter had arrived.
[Mission Complete: Prepare for the Storm.]
[Reward: Library Level Up. Unlocked: "Basic Agriculture & Greenhouse Construction".]
[System Warning: Incoming Event - "The Wolf's Past".]
Valeria's smile faded. She looked at Silas, who was happily tearing into his rabbit on the rug.
The Wolf's Past?
Peace, it seemed, was not on the schedule for tomorrow.