Alec stood at the edge of the stone tiles, watching the cave entrance.
Nothing came this time.
The fire burned steadily ahead of him, its warmth pressing against his face while the cold air from outside crept inward. The remains of the deer he had dragged onto the tiles sat untouched, stiff and beginning to rot. The smell had started to spread through the cave, heavy and sour.
Still, nothing came.
No movement in the trees. No sound of claws against stone. No low growl breaking the silence.
Alec waited longer than he should have.
At first, he stayed ready, his sword in his hands, his eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the entrance. But as time passed, his grip loosened. His shoulders lowered. The tension in his body slowly drained away, replaced by dull and frustrating disappointment.
He glanced toward the armor.
It sat in the stone chair, unchanged. The faint green flame flickered.
It wouldn't move unless something stepped onto the tiles. Alec already knew that.
He looked back toward the entrance again, then at the carcass on the stone.
Nothing.
Alec exhaled slowly and lowered his sword.
He turned away.
The next morning came with bitter cold.
Colder than the day before.
Alec stepped outside the cave and felt it immediately. The air bit at his skin, sharp and dry. His breath showed faintly as he moved, thin clouds drifting away in front of him.
He didn't waste any time.
The first hide had dried enough to use.
It wasn't clean or smooth, and the edges were uneven where he had cut it, but it was thick. He lifted it and wrapped it around his upper body, pulling it tight across his chest and shoulders. It felt stiff and awkward at first, heavier than he expected.
He tore strips from one of the old sacks and tied the hide in place, wrapping the cloth around his arms and waist to keep it from slipping.
It held, well enough to go out of the cave.
Alec rolled his shoulders slightly, testing the movement. It restricted him a little, but the warmth was immediate. It blocked the cold air better than the thin fabric he had been wearing.
He nodded to himself and knew he needed another.
Alec grabbed his bow and headed into the forest.
The ground had hardened overnight, the dirt stiff beneath his feet. Leaves crunched faintly as he moved, and he forced himself to step more carefully, slower than usual.
Tracking took longer this time.
The forest felt quieter. The trees now shades of orange and yellow as the leaves fell around him.
Eventually, he found them.
Two deer again.
He crouched low, drawing the bow slowly, adjusting his grip as best he could with his missing finger. The string still felt weird, but he held steady, then released.
The arrow struck his target as he smirked.
The deer bolted, crashing through the brush.
Alec followed.
By the time he returned to the cave, the second hide was already skinned and tied down with the rest of his supplies.
He stretched it across another crude frame, using more wood and cloth to hold it in place. It sagged more than the first one had, the shape uneven, but he tightened the strips until it held.
He stepped back and looked at it. Still not what he thought in his mind but it would take time.
Everything took time.
The cold kept getting harsher, stinging his face and ears when he returned for the carcass. His knuckles and hands hurt while pushing the cart. When he returned the warmth of the fire was a pleasant relief before he cut the meat to make more jerky.
Each day felt sharper than the last.
Alec began gathering more wood.
He moved deeper into the forest, cutting down smaller trees and dragging them back to the cave one load at a time. His arms ached constantly now, but he didn't slow down. He stacked the wood near the entrance, building a rough pile that grew slowly with each trip.
At the same time, he set more traps.
Closer to the cave.
He placed them carefully along small animal paths, checking them each morning and again before nightfall. Some days, he caught nothing. On others, a rabbit or two hung in the snares, still and stiff.
When he caught something, he ate.
When he didn't, he used the jerky.
He kept track without thinking. Counting what remained. Watching how quickly it disappeared.
The first snow came and fell gently to the ground.
Alec stepped outside one morning and saw it resting lightly across the ground. A thin layer, barely enough to cover the dirt.
He stood still for a moment, looking at it.
Then he went back to work.
The days began to blur.
Snow fell again.
And again.
The layer grew thicker, spreading across the forest floor and creeping toward the cave entrance. Alec cleared it when it got too close, pushing it aside with his feet or breaking it apart with pieces of wood.
The cold crept in constantly now.
Even with the hide wrapped around him, he could feel it.
He kept practicing every day. Repeating all his swings and stance.
Feet apart. Knees bent.
Diagonal.
Horizontal.
Upward.
Again.
And again.
The swings came easier now. His body moved without as much thought. His feet landed where they needed to. The blade followed.
But the swing from the armor, didn't come as easily. He tried to replicate it over and over, adjusting his stance, his step, the angle of the blade.
It never felt right.
It always fell apart or the blade would twist in his hand. He grew frustrated, but he didn't stop.
Time passed.
He wasn't sure how much.
The snow was now deep. A slow incline from the entrance of the cave formed where it had partially melted from the warm air generated by his fire.
Days turned into something measured by firewood, food, how often he had to check the traps.
The snow finally began to melt.
It started near the edges first, thin patches of exposed ground appearing where the sun reached. Then more followed. The layer softened, shrinking day by day.
Water dripped from branches.
The air shifted.
Still cold, but getting warmer each day.
One morning, Alec stepped out of the cave and felt it immediately. The air was much more pleasant and didn't sting against his face.
He returned inside and picked up his sword.
Feet apart.
Knees bent.
He began his swings.
Diagonal.
Horizontal.
Upward.
Something moved in his body.
Alec froze.
A faint, cool sensation passed through his chest, like the feeling from the crystals, but weaker. It traveled outward, down his arms, into his hands.
Then it was gone.
Alec stood still.
He looked down at his hands.
Nothing.
He tightened his grip on the sword and tried again.
Diagonal.
Horizontal.
Upward.
Nothing happened.
Alec frowned slightly.
He reset.
Again.
And again.
He kept practicing, repeating the movements, focusing on the same rhythm, the same flow.
Then it happened again.
The same cool sensation.
This time, he didn't stop.
He kept moving.
The feeling grew stronger.
It started in his chest again, spreading faster this time, flowing into his arms and hands. His grip tightened instinctively as he stepped forward and swung.
The blade cut through the air and a faint blue arc followed.
It lingered for just a moment, trailing behind the swing before fading into nothing.
Alec stopped.
His breathing picked up with excitement.
He stared at the space where the arc had been. Then he stepped back into position.
Again.
He swung.
The sensation came stronger this time, more controlled. The blue arc appeared again, clearer now, sharper as it traced the path of his blade.
Alec felt the force behind it as his excitement kept growing.
A slow smile spread across his face.
He didn't understand it.
Didn't know what it was.
But it felt great, powerful in a way he'd never felt.
He tightened his grip on the sword and swung again.