Winter was fast approaching.
The air carried a faint bite in the mornings now, and the wind from the northern ridge had begun to whistle through the valley in sharper breaths.
Leaves rustled. Birds flew lower. Even the beasts in the forest moved differently, storing fat and strengthening their dens.
The males of the village grew busier each day.
Some prepared tools.
Some reinforced homes.
Some dug new storage pits.
And many…far too many…lined up eagerly for the most important task:
The winter hunt.
Because once the snow fell thick and the rivers froze, hunting would become dangerous, nearly impossible. Whatever they stocked now would determine whether they lived comfortably… or miserably.
Isabella had known this.
But she did not expect the entire village to move like a giant, muscular swarm the moment the sun rose.
Cyrus approached her first, tying his long hair back. His movements were calm and practiced, but his pink eyes kept checking her belly every few seconds.
