Morning arrived quietly as they continued on their path.
Frost clung stubbornly to the surrounding pines, untouched where the sun had yet to reach.
Gavril stretched until his shoulders cracked.
"Wonderful.Another day of walking."
He bent to roll his blanket.
"Should've been born a fisherman. Fish don't expect you to march through half a kingdom."
Across the camp, Kaavi had already packed.
Nothing unusual there.
The man had an irritating habit of waking before everyone else, as though sleep was something he'd simply decided he no longer needed.
Samuel emerged from behind a cluster of trees, fastening his belt.
"Morning."
A few nods answered him.
"...Still a quiet bunch."
Samuel chuckled under his breath.
"I'll wear you down eventually."
They left the clearing as the morning mist lingered between the trunks.
Snow softened every footstep.
Only the occasional creak of leather or the clink of Gavril's axes disturbed the silence.
Viktor walked near the front today.
He matched Kaavi's pace without thinking.
Every now and then his eyes wandered.
Animal tracks. Bent branches.
A patch of bark peeled from a pine.
Questions formed behind his eyes, but today he kept most of them to himself.
Samuel looked from one to another.
"I've travelled with caravans louder than this."
Still no answer.
He smiled.
"I once spent six days with a potter."
Nothing.
"The man argued with his donkey."
Gavril glanced sideways.
"...Who won?"
"The donkey."
A corner of Gavril's mouth twitched before he looked ahead again.
Samuel laughed.
"There we go."
"I knew there was a person under that beard."
One sentence.Now he thinks we're friends.
The trail narrowed.
Low branches sagged beneath old snow, forcing everyone to duck beneath them.
Samuel caught one as it sprang back.
"Careful."
The branch whipped harmlessly past Viktor's head.
The boy blinked.
"...Thanks."
The forest settled around them.
A raven called somewhere high above the canopy.
Viktor looked up, trying to follow the sound through the branches.
By the time he found it, the bird was already gone.
Around midday, Kaavi slowed.
His gaze swept across the trees.
Judging.
The slope. The wind.
The distance to the stream hidden somewhere beyond the pines.
"There."
He nodded toward a small clearing. No one questioned it.
Gavril dropped his pack with a relieved sigh.
Samuel set his own bundle down nearby.
"I'll gather firewood."
Without waiting for an answer, he wandered toward the treeline.
Viktor watched him disappear between the trunks before turning toward Kaavi.
"What should I do?"
Kaavi looked around the clearing.
"Clear the snow."
Viktor nodded once and immediately searched for a branch.
He began sweeping the snow aside with determined little strokes.
Most of it scattered back where it had started.
Veyl walked over without a word.
He took the branch.
Shook the loose snow from the pine needles.
Then handed it back.
"Like this."
One slow sweep.
The snow rolled aside in a neat strip.
Viktor watched carefully.
"...Oh."
He copied the motion.
This time it worked.
Veyl gave a single nod and returned to unpacking the bedrolls.
Viktor continued sweeping.
A little straighter now. A little more confident.
Kaavi watched for a moment before opening his pack.
His hand rested briefly on a small cloth bundle tucked safely beneath the spare clothes.
Paper.
Ink.
A pen.
He closed the flap again.
"Viktor."
The boy looked up immediately.
"When you're finished."
"We'll begin."
Viktor glanced at the bundle.
Then back at Kaavi.
He didn't know what "begin" meant.
But the calm certainty in Kaavi's voice made him unexpectedly curious.
He finished clearing the last patch of snow with renewed determination.
Samuel returned with an armful of dry branches balanced against his shoulder.
"I found enough to keep us warm."
He dropped them beside the fire pit.
"...Unless Gavril decides the whole forest needs chopping."
Gavril looked up from arranging stones around the fire.
"I considered it."
Samuel laughed.
"I believe you."
The clearing slowly settled into familiar work.
Veyl unrolled bedrolls.
Gavril coaxed life back into the fire with practiced hands.
Samuel disappeared again, this time to fetch water from the nearby stream.
Kaavi untied the small cloth bundle from inside his pack.
He laid each item carefully across the fallen log.
Paper.
A small bottle of ink.
A wooden pen.
Even Gavril glanced over.
"Viktor."
The boy hurried over, brushing snow from his gloves before climbing onto the log.
His boots swung a little above the ground.
Kaavi uncorked the ink.
The faint smell drifted into the cold air.
Without speaking, he dipped the pen.
The scratching of wood against paper became the only sound between them.
Slow and measured.
Each stroke ended before the next began.
When he finished, he turned the page.
One word.
"Viktor"
The boy leaned forward.
"...That's my name?"
"Yes."
He stared a little longer.
Kaavi looked at the word.
His eyes lingered on the name longer than they should have.
His fingers remained still against the paper.
For the briefest moment...
Something softened.
"Do you know the meaning of your name?"
He gently tapped the ink.
Viktor frowned.
"NO"
"It means conqueror."
"Your mother named you, when you were born, you had very high fever. Nobody thought you would survive, but your mother…she had hope, she knew you will survive, and when you recovered, she gave you this name."
Kaavi pointed to the first letter.
"This one."
"V."
Viktor repeated it quietly.
"...V."
Again.
"V."
One more time.
"V."
Kaavi gave a single nod.
"Good."
He handed Viktor the pen.
The boy held it awkwardly.
Like a tiny knife.
He lowered the tip toward the paper.
It caught.
A blot of ink spread across the page.
Viktor stiffened.
"...I ruined it."
"No."
Kaavi turned the sheet over.
"Again."
Viktor tried once more.
The first line leaned too far.
The second crossed through it.
The third barely resembled the mark Kaavi had written.
He stared at it.
"It doesn't look right."
"It doesn't."
"...Again?"
"Again."
Viktor lowered the pen again.
Another crooked line.
Worse than before.
His shoulders tightened.
"...Why won't it stay the same?"
Kaavi looked at the page.
"Because your hand is trying to do something it has never done."
Viktor frowned.
"...Will it?"
A long silence.
Then…
"Yes."
He reached for another sheet.
"Again."
Someone stopped beside the log.
Veyl.
He watched silently for a few moments.
Kaavi looked up.
"You can write."
"Enough."
A faint shrug.
Kaavi slid the pen toward him.
"Help him."
Veyl sat beside Viktor.
He didn't begin writing immediately.
Instead...
He turned the paper slightly.
"The pen."
He adjusted Viktor's fingers around it.
"...Not so tight."
Viktor loosened his grip.
"A little more."
The pen settled naturally into his hand.
Veyl nodded.
"There."
Only then did he draw the first letter.
One steady stroke.
Then another.
He pushed the paper back.
"Now you."
Viktor copied it.
The lines still wandered.
The angle was uneven.
But...
It looked like a letter.
Veyl studied it.
"...Better."
That single word was enough.
Viktor looked back at the page.
Then quietly began another.
Without being asked.
Across the fire, Samuel returned with two filled waterskins.
Samuel smiled faintly before looking away.
Whatever memories the sight stirred... he kept them to himself.
He set the waterskins down without interrupting.
Gavril fed another branch into the growing fire.
Kaavi watched Viktor trace the first letter again.
And again.
Each attempt a little steadier than the last.
He said nothing.
There was nothing to add.
As Kaavi stood, the clearing shifted.
His vision.
He stopped.
One hand briefly found the edge of the fallen log until the dizziness passed.
No one seemed to notice.
He let go.
Then walked toward Gavril.
"I am going to bed early, wake me even if something small happens."
Gavril looked up towards Kaavi.
"Are you okay?"
"I feel tired"
"At least eat something."
"I don't feel like eating right now, I'll eat something later." said Kaavi as he walked away.
Midnight
The camp had long since fallen silent.
The fire no longer crackled.
Every so often, a piece of wood settled into glowing embers, sending a brief shower of orange sparks drifting upward before darkness swallowed them again.
Samuel snored softly beneath his blanket.
Veyl slept curled against his rolled cloak, one hand resting near the knife at his belt.
Gavril lay on his back.
One arm beneath his head.
The other draped across his chest.
Kaavi opened his eyes.
For a moment...
He remained perfectly still.
The headache had returned.
As though invisible hands had wrapped themselves around his temples and were slowly tightening.
He closed his eyes again.
Waited.
The pain remained.
Quietly...
He pushed the blanket aside. The cold greeted him immediately.
He reached for the small pouch beside his bedroll.
Inside remained two pieces of coarse bread. And strips of dried meat.
He stood.
Behind him...
A bedroll shifted.
Gavril opened one eye.
There he goes. Didn't eat a thing...Stubborn old goat.
His eyelid grew heavy again.
If he's hungry later...That's his own fault.
Sleep reclaimed him before the thought could finish.
Kaavi left the clearing without a sound.
Snow muffled every step.
The moon hung low above the forest.
A thin crescent caught between the branches.
Silver light spilled across the untouched snow, turning the forest into shifting shades of blue and black.
Only the distant groan of old trees settling beneath winter's weight.
Kaavi walked without destination.
His father had once told him that pain often grew louder when a person sat still.
Whether the old man had been right...Or whether Kaavi had simply believed him for too many years...
He no longer knew.
The forest gradually opened.
An ancient pine had fallen long ago, its trunk resting above the snow like a weathered bridge.
Kaavi brushed the snow from the bark before sitting.
For a while...
He did nothing.
The bread rested untouched in his hand.
His breathing slowly matched the rhythm of the sleeping forest.
Then...
A sound.
Barely more than packed snow shifting beneath careful paws.
Kaavi didn't turn. He simply listened.
Another step.
Closer. Slow. Patient. Watching.
Only then did he lift his eyes.
Between the pines...
Two figures stood motionless.
Black.
Almost impossible to distinguish from the darkness surrounding them.
Only the moonlight tracing the edges of their fur revealed their shapes.
Wolves.
Large.
Hunger had carved deep lines beneath their coats.
Neither growled.
Neither bared its teeth.
They simply watched the stranger sitting upon the fallen tree.
The larger of the two stood slightly ahead, broad shoulders rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. The second lingered half a step behind, its amber eyes never leaving Kaavi.
Kaavi remained seated.
The bread rested loosely in his hand.
He had no desire to test which of them was faster.
The forest was theirs.
A faint whine drifted through the trees.
Soft.
Almost lost beneath the stillness.
One ear on the larger wolf turned.
Then another sound answered it.
Kaavi's gaze shifted beyond the pair.
Movement.
Behind them.
Two small shapes stumbled from beneath the roots of an overturned pine.
Cubs.
Their paws seemed too large for their legs, sending them tumbling through the snow with every hurried step.
One nudged impatiently against the larger wolf's chest.
The other pressed beneath its mother's neck.
The adults lowered their heads.
Patient.
Gentle.
The cubs searched their parents' fur, whining softly for food that wasn't there.
Kaavi's eyes lingered.
The adults did not push them away.
They simply endured the tiny noses nudging beneath empty bellies.
His fingers tightened around the dried meat until its edges cracked.
One of the cubs wandered a few steps away before collapsing into the snow.
It quickly climbed back to its feet and tried again.
The mother stepped forward immediately, nudging it gently back toward her side.
Her own ribs showed clearly beneath the dark coat.
Kaavi lowered his eyes.
He broke the bread in half.
Then again.
The pieces grew smaller in his hands.
He laid them upon the snow a few paces ahead.
The strip of dried meat followed.
Nothing remained.
The wolves watched him.
Neither approached.
Kaavi stood slowly.
The headache pulsed once behind his eyes.
He ignored it.
Without another glance toward the food...
He stepped away from the fallen tree.
One pace.
Then another.
Until several body lengths separated them.
Only then did he stop.
Silence returned.
The larger wolf moved first.
Carefully.
Each step deliberate.
It reached the bread.
Paused.
Its nose hovered above the pieces before turning briefly toward Kaavi.
Their eyes met across the snow.
The wolf lowered its head.
It picked up the dried meat.
Instead of eating...
It carried it back.
The cubs rushed forward immediately.
The cubs crowded around the meat at once, bumping clumsily into one another.
The mother waited.
Only after the cubs had eaten did either adult touch what remained.
Kaavi watched quietly.
His fingers curled once against the cold.
Then relaxed.
The family lingered only a little longer.
The cubs wrestled over the final crumbs before one disappeared beneath its mother's chest again.
The larger wolf looked toward Kaavi one final time.
Then turned.
The four dark shapes slipped between the pines.
Within moments...
Only untouched snow remained.
As though they had never been there
Kaavi returned to the fallen tree.
He brushed away the fresh layer of snow and sat once more.
The forest felt still.
His stomach was empty.
His head still ached.
Neither seemed important.
Slowly...
He lifted his gaze.
Above the dark silhouettes of the pines...
A thin crescent moon rested against the winter sky.
Cold.
Quiet.
Unchanging.
For a long while...
He simply looked at it.
Only silence.
A faint breeze finally stirred the treetops.
The branches whispered softly to one another before falling still again.
Kaavi rose.
Snow crunched beneath his boots.
The camp waited somewhere beyond the trees.
Warm embers.
Sleeping companions.
Another day waiting with the sunrise.
He walked back the way he had come.
When he reached the edge of the clearing, he paused for a moment.
The fire still glowed faintly beneath its blanket of ash.
Kaavi allowed himself the smallest breath.
Then quietly settled beneath his blanket.
Sometime during the night...
Viktor shifted in his sleep.
Without waking, he drifted a little closer to Kaavi's bedroll.
Kaavi noticed.
He said nothing.
He simply closed his eyes.
The forest carried on around them.