After one month Winter arrived like a silent enemy.
By the time the first snow settled thickly outside the caves, the clan already felt the pressure. Hunting grounds were frozen, prey scarce, and the wind carried a warning that this season would be long. In the central cave, elders and warriors gathered, voices low and tense as they discussed food.
Feng Lihan stood among them, listening. His gaze kept drifting to Lin Yue, who sat near the fire with his injured foot wrapped tightly. The wound had healed, but winter made it throb painfully.
"We'll go farther tomorrow," an elder said. "Those who can hunt will hunt. Others gather whatever fruit remains."
Lin Yue immediately tried to rise. "I can go too."
Feng Lihan turned sharply. "No."
The single word cut cleanly through the murmurs. He moved to Lin Yue's side, crouching so their eyes met.
"Your foot can't handle frozen ground," Feng Lihan said quietly but firmly. "You stay."
Lin Yue clenched his fingers in his fur cloak. "I don't want to be useless."
"You won't be," Feng Lihan replied. "Keeping yourself safe is enough."
The next morning, the hunting party left before dawn. Lin Yue watched them disappear into the white forest, anxiety twisting in his chest. All he could do was tend the fire, prepare herbs, and wait.
By late afternoon, they returned.
There was meat—dark, frozen, hard to cut. A few baskets of winter fruit. Some roots pulled from beneath the snow. When everything was laid out, no one needed to say it aloud.
It wasn't enough.
"This won't last the winter," someone whispered.
That night, the cave felt colder despite the fire. Feng Lihan sat sharpening his blade, expression tight. Lin Yue stared at the food, thoughts racing. In his old life, winter shortages were solved in only one way.
Preservation.
"…Feng Lihan," Lin Yue said suddenly.
Feng Lihan looked up immediately. "What is it?"
"We can preserve food," Lin Yue said. "Dry it. Smoke it. Store it properly so it lasts longer."
Murmurs rippled through the cave.
"Meat rots," one hunter said doubtfully. "In winter?" another added. "How?"
Lin Yue took a breath, steadying himself. "Slice the meat thin. Hang it near low heat—not fire, just smoke. The cold air helps dry it instead of spoiling it. Fruits can be dried on stone slabs near the fire. Roots can be stored in cool, dark places."
Silence followed.
Then Feng Lihan stood.
"We'll try it," he said without hesitation. "If it works, we survive the winter."
The clan moved quickly. Feng Lihan handled the cutting while others followed Lin Yue's instructions. Smoke filled the cave, thick but controlled. Meat strips were hung carefully. Fruit was laid out on warmed stones.
Hours later, Lin Yue sat exhausted, his foot aching, but his chest felt light.
Feng Lihan approached him, holding a cup of warm broth. "You saved us time," he said quietly.
Lin Yue blinked. "I just… didn't want everyone to starve."
Feng Lihan crouched beside him, eyes steady and sincere. "You didn't need to go outside to be useful."
That night, as snow fell heavier beyond the cave, the clan slept with something they hadn't had all winter—
Hope.