The mountains rose like giant anthills, their faces dotted with dark openings.
There were forty caves in total.
They were not connected, yet together they formed a settlement.
Alex's tribe entered without hesitation.
He had forty male beastmen and ten female beastmen. Among them were fifteen to twenty cubs. Their bodies looked weak, undernourished—but their eyes were bright, sharp, and full of life.
The females each had three to four mates. Most of the males were already bonded; only a few remained unmated.
When June appeared among them, hope briefly sparked in some eyes.
Then they felt Alex's aura.
Dangerous. Absolute.
Any thoughts they had vanished instantly.
He was the leader.
And she was clearly his.
Alex assessed every family calmly.
Based on numbers and strength, he assigned each group a cave. Every cave contained several chambers, carved deep into the stone by time.
When it came to June—
Alex chose the middle cave on the right corner, overlooking a nearby river.
The sound of flowing water echoed softly inside.
The moment June stepped in, her breath caught.
Her architect's soul ignited.
She turned excitedly to Alex, her hands already moving as she spoke.
"The entrance should have a table here," she said, pointing. "You can conduct meetings. Then this becomes the main hall."
She walked deeper.
"This hall can connect to five rooms—one for me, one for you, a kitchen, a washroom, and the rest for storage or guests."
Alex paused.
"What is… washroom?"
June blinked—then smiled.
She explained patiently. Bathing. Storing water. Cleanliness.
She even picked up a piece of stone and drew on the cave wall—simple shapes, clear purpose.
Slowly, understanding dawned in Alex's eyes.
That same day, he went to the nearby bamboo forest.
Under June's guidance, he crafted a bed, table, chair, and bathtub—his large hands surprisingly careful.
Other beastmen noticed.
They moved closer.
They watched their leader work.
Some offered help.
Alex refused politely.
"I will do it," he said.
He wanted to impress his mate.
Inspired, the others returned to their own caves. Soon, the entire settlement buzzed with activity as males began crafting furniture at their females' requests.
Winter crept closer.
June felt it first—the cold wind slipping through stone, making her shiver.
She looked at the open cave mouth.
"We need doors."
Everyone stopped.
"Doors?" they echoed.
June explained—wooden barriers to block the harsh wind, to keep warmth inside.
Understanding spread quickly.
Every cave soon had one.
The tribe watched their leader closely.
Each invention amazed them.
Each change made life easier.
From a distance, the tribe healer observed quietly.
Clean caves.
Warm fires.
Organized spaces.
Healthy routines.
Harmony.
For the first time in many winters, the tribe felt… stable.
She smiled to herself.
All because of her.
Because of the leader's human mate.
And though the snow had not yet fallen—
A new season had already begun.
After a long day of building, shaping, and learning, the tribe slowly retreated to their caves.
The fires dimmed one by one.
Meat and rations had already been fairly distributed by the leader himself—no favoritism, no excess. The tribe rested with full bellies and peaceful hearts.
They were fortunate.
They had a just leader.
June returned to her cave.
As she stepped inside, the sight stunned her.
The organized space.
The furniture.
The warmth trapped by the newly built door.
For the first time since she arrived in this world—
It felt… like home.
Her chest tightened.
She missed her real home.
The silence reminded her of the nights she spent alone in that desolate house, cooking, cleaning, dreaming. She sat down slowly, running her fingers over the smooth bamboo table Alex had made with his own hands.
Then—
The thought struck her like cold water.
The door.
The mysterious annex.
The passage between worlds.
All day, she had been so busy creating—so involved in shaping this place—that she had forgotten.
This was not her world.
She had to leave.
Her heart wavered.
On the journey here, she had been so focused on survival—on finding edible plants, mushrooms, berries—that the idea of escape had slipped quietly into the back of her mind.
Now it returned.
Loud. Heavy.
Unavoidable.
June stared at the flickering fire.
"If I get too comfortable," she whispered to herself, "I'll never leave."
Outside, the wind howled against the mountain.
Inside, warmth embraced her.
While June sat lost in thought, the sound of footsteps echoed softly inside the cave.
Alex entered, carrying the large bucket June had crafted, filled to the brim with water drawn from the river. The chill rising from it made steam impossible—but Alex was already moving.
He poured the water into the stone basin he had carved earlier and placed heated stones inside, just as June had shown him. Slowly, steam began to rise.
When the water was warm enough, he turned and said simply,
"You can bathe now."
June paused, surprised.
Earlier that day, she had collected dry loofah from the forest floor. When the beastwomen had asked what it was for, she had explained patiently that it was not food—but for cleaning the body.
The females had been confused.
"Why clean?" one had asked.
"We survive without it," another added.
June had explained about disease, about how poor hygiene weakened the body—especially females. She spoke of boiling water in winter, cleaning paws, nails, and cubs. Slowly, understanding dawned on their faces.
They had watched June—clean, alert, healthy—while they themselves felt tired, dull, and often ill.
By evening, every female carried loofah with hope in their eyes.
Back in the cave, June prepared to bathe.
As she turned—she froze.
Alex was doing the same.
She immediately looked away, heat rushing to her face.
"What are you doing?" she snapped.
Alex frowned, genuinely confused.
"You said bathing prevents disease. I am following that."
"But—why here? With me?" June demanded.
He answered calmly, almost too casually,
"It takes effort to heat water again. And mates have no reason to hide from each other."
Then he added, as if stating the weather,
"Two weeks have passed. Today is meant to be the ritual."
June's blood ran cold.
"No," she said firmly, stepping back. "I won't."
Alex looked at her—truly looked this time.
"I will not mate with you," she continued, voice steady despite her shaking hands,
"until I choose to. Until I feel safe. Until I feel… willing."
Silence filled the cave, broken only by the crackle of heated stone.
For the first time, Alex did not argue.
He studied her expression—fear, anger, resolve—all tangled together.
Finally, he stepped away from the basin.
"Very well," he said slowly. "Then we wait."
June exhaled, not realizing she had been holding her breath.
The warm water still steamed between them—but now, so did something else.
A fragile understanding.
After June finished bathing, Alex quietly reheated the water and took his turn. By then, exhaustion had finally settled into her bones.
She retreated to her room and lay down on the bamboo bed, its woven surface firm yet comforting. It was wide—clearly made for two—but she curled to one side, pulling the small beast-hide blanket over herself.
The night air crept in through the cave walls.
She shivered.
Sleep came gently.
Somewhere between dreams and waking, she felt warmth—steady, protective, surrounding her like a shield against the cold. Without realizing it, she leaned into it, breathing deeply, comforted.
Her dreams betrayed her.
She dreamed of closeness, of shared warmth, of a breath lingering too near—
of a kiss that never quite happened, heavy with emotion rather than touch.
June woke with a gasp.
Her heart raced.
"What am I thinking?" she muttered, mortified, lightly tapping her forehead.
"I can't afford this. Not here. Not with him."
Then she noticed.
Alex's arm was around her waist.
She had been sleeping against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, his presence steady and warm. He was fast asleep, his breathing slow, unaware.
Carefully—so carefully—June lifted his arm and slipped free.
She stood there for a moment, watching him.
For all his strength, he looked strangely peaceful in sleep.
She turned away.
Outside the cave, the mountain was silent.
The beastmen guards were scattered along the cave entrances—some standing, most slumped against stone, utterly exhausted after days of travel and labor. The cold wind carried the scent of pine and snow.
June's pulse quickened.
This is it.
She remembered Alex's words:
> "The door does not stay in one place.
It appears near ancient trees, ones that have stood since before memory."
She pulled her cloak tighter and stepped into the night.
Her footsteps were soft, guided by instinct and the pale glow of the moon. Down the slope, beyond the caves, the forest thickened—dark, old, watching.
Every shadow made her breath hitch.
Yet her resolve was firm.
I don't belong here.
I have to go home.
As she slipped past the last cave, the wind whispered through the trees.
Alex did not wake.
That alone felt like fate opening a narrow door just for her.
June slipped between the trees, her steps light, her breath shallow. The mountain caves faded behind her as she descended toward the river she had noticed that morning—wide, fast, and dark under the moonlight.
Standing at its edge, she felt doubt crawl into her chest.
How am I supposed to cross this…?
The water rushed violently, cold enough to steal her breath if she slipped.
She forced herself to think.
Scanning the forest floor, June searched for anything useful. After several tense minutes, she found long, flexible stems, tough yet bendable. Kneeling, she pulled out the small knife she always carried—her last connection to her old world—and began slicing, twisting, knotting.
Her fingers trembled, but she worked steadily.
Soon, a rough rope lay coiled at her feet.
She searched again and found a heavy piece of fatwood, dense and solid enough to serve as an anchor. Her eyes lifted to the opposite bank—where a massive tree rose, its trunk thick and scarred with age.
Taking a deep breath, she tied the rope securely and began throwing.
Once.
Twice.
Three times—failure.
Her arms burned.
On the fifth attempt, the rope caught.
It wrapped around a protruding root and held.
Relief nearly made her collapse.
Nearby, she spotted a broken, hollow tree trunk, half-rotted but buoyant. With effort, she dragged it into the water, climbed atop it, and gripped the rope.
Hand over hand, she pulled herself across, the current fighting her every move.
Cold spray soaked her clothes.
Her knuckles bled.
But she made it.
The moment her feet touched the opposite shore, she cut the rope free, hid the remains beneath brush, and pushed the hollow trunk downstream. Nothing left behind.
No trail.
She tore a strip from her clothing, wrapped it around a stem, and lit it—a small torch, flickering weakly against the vast forest darkness.
Guided by its glow, June moved toward the giant tree she had seen from afar.
But as she drew closer, her heart sank.
This tree was not ancient in the way she had imagined.
It was alive—claimed.
A low growl vibrated through the air.
Yellow eyes opened in the shadows.
Then red ones.
A red-eyed wolf stepped forward, its presence thick with hostility, its gaze locked onto her like she was prey.
June froze.
Her torch shook violently.
Before she could scream or run—
A blur of black descended from above.
The wolf barely had time to react.
A massive black panther slammed into it, claws flashing, movements precise and lethal. The wolf snarled once before retreating into the darkness, wounded and furious.
June collapsed to her knees, gasping.
Slow, deliberate footsteps approached.
From the shadows emerged a tall figure—broad-shouldered, powerful, his body shifting as moonlight revealed jet-black hair, sharp features, and eyes glowing blue like cut gems.
A beastman.
A panther.
He studied her silently, his gaze unreadable.
"You don't belong in this forest," he finally said, voice low and smooth.
"And certainly not alone."
June swallowed hard.
"I… I was looking for a tree," she whispered.
His lips curved faintly—not a smile, not quite a threat.
"You found one," he replied.
"But this one belongs to me."
With effortless strength, he lifted her—not roughly, not gently, but securely—and leapt upward.
Branches blurred past her vision.
When they stopped, June found herself inside a home built into the great tree itself, carved from living wood, warm and strangely peaceful.
The panther set her down.
"You're safe here," he said calmly.
"For now."