Morning came gently.
Not all at once, not with birdsong or light bursting through the trees, but slowly-like the forest was testing whether it was safe to wake them. Pale light crept along the cave walls, warming the stone just enough to chase away the night's chill.
Bruce was the first to open his eyes.
He lay still for a moment, listening.
Fire-low, steady.
Water-dripping somewhere deeper in the cave.
Breathing-two familiar rhythms beside him.
He smiled.
"Hey," he whispered.
Vernon stirred, groaning softly as he rolled onto his side. "If you're about to ask me to go check traps, I'm pretending to be asleep."
Bruce snorted. "Too late."
Derek, already awake near the cave entrance, didn't turn around-but the corner of his mouth twitched.
They ate together.
It wasn't much-dried meat, water from the lake, a handful of roots Derek deemed safe-but no one complained. Hunger had long since stopped being a novelty.
Bruce chewed thoughtfully before speaking. "Dad?"
"Yes?"
"When we get stronger," Bruce said, glancing between Derek and Vernon, "do you think we can make this place into something like a lab thing that mom made in that tree?"
The question hung in the air.
Derek considered it seriously, then nodded. "If Alice was here she would've complained about the damp," he said. "Then figured out how to make it live-able in a week."
Vernon smiled. "She'd turn the cave into a lab."
"And tell us not to touch anything," Bruce added. "But also expect us to help."
That earned a quiet laugh from Derek-real, unguarded.
"She'd be proud of you," he said simply.
No one cried.
Later that day, Derek called them both over.
He sat on a flat stone near the cave mouth, two small bundles wrapped in cloth resting on his knees.
"I meant to give these to you earlier," he said. "But... timing matters."
Bruce's eyes lit up instantly. Vernon tilted his head, curious.
Derek unwrapped the first bundle.
A hunter's knife-simple, balanced, well-worn but meticulously cared for. The blade was short but sturdy, its edge clean. The handle was wrapped in dark leather, moulded perfectly for a steady grip.
He handed it to Bruce.
Bruce took it with both hands, reverent.
"Turn it," Derek said.
Bruce did.
Engraved along the base of the blade, small but precise, was his name.
Bruce.
His throat tightened. "Dad..."
"This knife won't make you strong," Derek said. "But it'll keep you alive long enough to become strong. Use it well."
Bruce nodded furiously. "I will. I swear."
Derek turned to Vernon and unwrapped the second bundle.
Vernon's knife was similar-but not identical. The blade was slightly narrower, better suited for precision. The leather wrap was lighter, the balance shifted just a touch toward control rather than force.
And engraved at the base:
Vernon.
Vernon ran his thumb over the letters.
"It's lighter," he murmured.
Derek met his eyes. "Because you don't fight the same way."
Vernon smiled-soft, genuine. "Thank you."
For the first time in a long while, the gifts didn't feel like preparations for loss.
They felt like beginnings.
About two days later-Vernon slipped while helping Derek reinforce a snare line near the lake. Vernon whilst slipping scraped his arm on a glossy transparent rock carving into his skin and flesh leaving a wide wound.
Vernon groaned still trying to cover up the immense pain he felt.
The ore had caught Derek's attention but he ignored it and tended to Vernon's wound before doing anything else.
This was a small mistake that could've been avoided by being careful, it wasn't humiliating but Vernon would go on to learn from a simple mistake as being too relaxed in terrain like this.
Bruce panicked.
Derek didn't.
He moved fast-pressure, cloth, calm commands. "Sit. Don't move. Breathe."
Vernon's face was pale, but he didn't scream. "It... hurts," he admitted.
"I know," Derek said.
The wound should've been bad. Really bad.
But by the next morning, the bleeding had stopped entirely.
By the second day, the flesh had already begun knitting together-pink, tender, but unmistakably healed far beyond what it should've been.
Bruce stared at it. "That's... not normal."
Vernon swayed slightly. "I feel... really tired."
Then he collapsed.
Vernon slept for nearly a week.
Not unconscious-just exhausted beyond measure. He woke to drink, to eat small amounts, then fell back into deep, dreamless rest.
Bruce stayed near him constantly.
When Vernon finally woke properly, eyes clear and focused, Bruce practically jumped.
"You're alive!" he blurted.
Vernon blinked. "Was that in question?"
"Yes!"
Derek watched them from the cave entrance, arms crossed.
"You heal fast," he said.
Vernon nodded slowly. "I always have."
"But it takes something from you," Derek continued.
Vernon hesitated, then nodded again. "It's like... everything else shuts down."
Bruce frowned. "That's dumb."
Vernon laughed weakly. "Yeah. I know."
Derek placed a hand on Vernon's shoulder. "We'll account for it. Strength isn't just power-it's knowing your limits."
Vernon looked up at him. "Even if I don't like them?"
"Especially then."
That night, the forest felt different.
Calmer.
The wind carried a faint scent of flowers that shouldn't have bloomed this deep into the woods. The lake reflected the moon too clearly-like glass.
Vernon stepped outside the cave, drawn by something he couldn't name.
"Vernon?" Bruce whispered.
"I'll be right here," Vernon said.
Near the treeline, just beyond the reach of the firelight, something shimmered.
A presence.
Small. Light. Curious.
For just a moment, Vernon thought he saw golden hair, eyes like the sky glowing through the dark, a shape half-formed from light and mist.
Then it was gone.
Vernon's heart pounded.
"...We're not alone," he whispered.
But for once, the thought didn't scare him.
By the end of the week, they laughed more than they cried.
They trained lightly. Planned. Talked about the future.
Alice's absence was still there-but it no longer hollowed them out.
They carried her forward instead.
And somewhere in the forest, something watched-not with malice, but interest.
The time to grow was coming.