By the third day of winter, the cave smelled different.
Not of fear or hunger—but of smoke, salt, and slowly drying meat.
Long strips of prey hung from wooden frames near the fire, darkening and firming as the smoke curled around them. Fruits lay sliced thin on flat stones, their sweetness concentrating as moisture faded away. Even the elders, once doubtful, now watched the process with quiet amazement.
"It's really not rotting," one muttered.
"It won't," Lin Yue said softly. "As long as the smoke stays steady."
He sat near the fire, his injured foot propped up on fur. Though he couldn't move much, everyone came to him now—to ask, to learn, to listen.
Feng Lihan noticed.
He noticed the way clan members bowed their heads slightly when speaking to Lin Yue. The way their voices held respect. Something warm and dangerous stirred in his chest—pride, fierce and possessive.
That afternoon, Feng Lihan returned from checking the perimeter to find Lin Yue frowning at the drying racks.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"The smoke is too strong today," Lin Yue replied. "If it's like this too long, the meat will taste bitter."
Feng Lihan immediately adjusted the firewood, lowering the flames without question. The hunters nearby exchanged glances. Their leader listened to Lin Yue as if it were instinct.
As night fell, snow piled higher outside the cave. Wind howled, trying to force its way in. Feng Lihan took first watch, standing near the entrance while Lin Yue rested behind him.
"Feng Lihan," Lin Yue called quietly. "You don't have to stay up all night."
"I do," Feng Lihan answered simply.
After a pause, he added, "I want to."
Lin Yue's heart skipped.
The fire cracked softly. Smoke drifted upward. For a long time, neither spoke.
Then Lin Yue said, hesitant, "When you said… I was your mate before—was it because of instinct?"
Feng Lihan didn't turn around. "Partly."
"And the rest?"
Feng Lihan's wings shifted slowly behind him, heavy and controlled. "Because when you were hurt," he said, voice low, "the thought of losing you made it hard to breathe."
Lin Yue's fingers tightened in the fur beneath him.
"That feeling didn't come from instinct."
Silence followed—thick, vulnerable.
Outside, the storm raged. Inside, the cave felt warmer than ever.
Lin Yue finally spoke. "I think… I understand a little now."
Feng Lihan turned then, eyes searching Lin Yue's face. "Understand what?"
"Why mates matter," Lin Yue said. "They stay. Even when it's hard."
Feng Lihan stepped closer, stopping just within reach. "And what do you want to do with that understanding?"
Lin Yue swallowed. His cheeks warmed, but he didn't look away.
"I want to stay too."
For a long moment, Feng Lihan said nothing.
Then he lowered himself in front of Lin Yue, carefully, respectfully, and pressed his forehead lightly to Lin Yue's.
No claim. No force.
Just warmth.
Outside, winter continued its assault.
Inside the cave, smoke rose steadily, food dried safely—
and something between them quietly, unmistakably took shape.