By January, survival stopped feeling like panic.
That didn't mean it became easy-only that it became consistent.
Vernon and Bruce learned the forest the way one learns a language in this case through repetition, mistakes, and quiet correction. Traps were checked at dawn and again before dusk. Snares were reset, reinforced, or abandoned entirely if they failed twice in the same place. They stopped blaming luck and started reading patterns-broken branches, disturbed soil, the way birds avoided certain clearings without sound.
They caught prey on their own now.
Not always large. Not always cleanly. But often enough that Derek no longer hovered over their shoulders.
Bruce took pride in it.
Vernon took notes.
From January through mid-March, the routine sharpened them. Hands grew calloused. Movements became efficient. Small mistakes-leaving scent behind, rushing knots, setting traps too close together-were corrected once and never repeated again.
Winter still bit hard, but it no longer surprised them.
And through it all, Vernon felt it.
A presence.
Not constant. Not intrusive.
Watching.
Derek noticed it too.
One night, as the fire burned low and the boys slept, Derek spoke quietly into the dark.
"She's not hostile," he murmured.
The forest answered only with wind.
"She's been watching Vernon for weeks," Derek continued. "If she wanted harm, it would've come already."
No response.
Derek exhaled slowly. "Then watch. But don't interfere."
Somewhere beyond sight, something listened-and waited.
Time passed winter let go, not letting go abruptly but rather slowly.
It loosened its grip.
The air lost its bite first-sharp winds fading into something softer, damp with the scent of earth rather than cold. Frost that once clung to stone vanished overnight, leaving darkened rock and wet soil behind. The lake never froze that year, but its surface changed all the same, ripples growing livelier as underground springs stirred and currents strengthened.
The forest shifted with it.
Roots drank deeper. Mana currents, once sluggish and restrained, began to flow more freely through soil and bark. Animals returned to paths long abandoned, no longer pressed inward by hunger or cold. What had been held tense by winter finally began to move again.
Spring has arrived quietly.
And with it, the sense that the world was waking up-whether it should have or not.
Vernon sat atop the cave, knees drawn close, watching the morning mist rise from the lake below.
Spring felt different.
Not gentler-just honest.
His body felt different too. Stronger, yes, but more importantly aware. He knew his limits now. Knew the cost of pushing past them. Knew that growth wasn't something taken-it was something paid for.
Bruce and Father were below, moving through their morning routine. Familiar. Steady.
Together.
We're still here, Vernon thought.
And we will be.
"I'll get stronger," he said quietly, to no one in particular. "However I have to."
His fingers curled into the stone beneath him.
"For Mom," he added. "For all of it."
The forest listened.
Bruce's birthday was coming up in early spring.
Derek chose the date carefully-a day when the lake was calm, the air warm, and the forest quiet.
Bruce was by the water, repairing a snare line with practiced hands. He skipped a stone absentmindedly, watching it bounce across the surface once, twice, three times before sinking.
Dad promised, he thought.
A promise made long ago-one he hadn't forgotten for a single day.
"You've been thinking hard," Derek said, stepping beside him.
Bruce didn't jump. "I know."
Derek studied him for a moment. "Once we start, there's no turning back easily."
Bruce met his eyes. "I know that too."
Derek explained it anyway.
How his martial arts reshaped the body. How they bound flesh, bone, and intent together. How choosing this path meant abandoning others-or paying years of agony to undo the changes.
He spoke of side effects. Of pain. Of sacrifice.
Bruce listened to every word.
Then nodded.
"I've thought about it a lot," he said simply. "I'm sure."
Derek searched his face - and found no hesitation.
"Then we'll begin soon," he said.
Bruce smiled-wide, fierce, unafraid.
Later that day in the evening, Vernon sat outside the cave alone.
The fire crackled softly behind him. The forest hummed with spring life.
He watched Bruce laugh with Derek near the lake, saw the way his brother moved-confident, ready to commit himself fully.
Martial arts.
Qi.
Paths Vernon could not walk.
Does that mean they're closed forever? he wondered.
He didn't answer himself.
Instead, he watched the stars begin to emerge-and waited.