It hit at dawn.
A few hours ago, the sky had been soft and quiet. Stars faded behind wisps of cloud, and the moon had shone pale against the trees. It had looked calm. Too calm. Now the wind screamed like a cornered animal, rattling frost-crusted windows, shaking the compound with its gusts. It sounded like weather. It sounded like something alive. Angry. Starving.
It had gotten cold hard and fast. It wasn't just cold. It was dangerous. To breathe hurt. Like glass scraping against their lungs. Julyah had already been awake. Something had called to her from sleep. Not a sound, exactly. More like a feeling. A wrongness that settled into her spine and whispered to her, to move.
She had been in the middle of shoving another blanket over the thin window curtain when the sense of dread hit her full force. It swam in her chest like smoke, curling around her heart. Her hands stilled. Something was coming. No time to think. No time to argue with the feeling.
She grabbed her coat, didn't even bother with socks or shoes, and ran into the corridor.
She wasn't alone.
Adrian came around the corner so fast they almost collided. His shoulder bumped hers. For a second, neither of them moved.
His hair was tousled, eyes wide. Lips bruised blue, and his bare feet left faint smudges on the cold tile.
"You okay?" he asked, voice tight and serious.
"I was coming to see if you needed anything," she said. Her cheeks were flushed, but not just from the cold. "It's worse than we thought."
They stood like that for a moment, petrified in place, the storm screaming around them. Their breath came out in clouds, puffing out in the space between them.
Adrian looked down. "You didn't put on shoes."
She raised an eyebrow. "Neither did you."
He let out a small, surprised laugh. Not loud, but real. For a moment, the cold didn't seem quite so keen.
Then they moved. Together.
—
Back in her room, Julyah didn't dawdle. She ignored the open shelves with jars of food and piles of sweaters. Those were for show. For emergencies other people understood. She needed something deeper.
She crouched by the wall and pressed two fingers to the flower-shaped tattoo on her wrist. It shimmered, softly, like it was breathing with her. Then it opened. Not physically, but in her mind. A pocket of space, secret and safe, full of the things she had prepared long before the world had fallen apart.
Her fingers delved into that invisible space. She didn't even blink. She knew every item by feel. Thick socks. Gloves. Thermal shirts and pants. Insulated jackets. She reached in and pulled out enough for five people, folded and clean.
One set, she wrapped carefully, more neatly than the rest. That one was for Adrian.
When she stepped back out into the hallway, he was exactly where she had left him. Arms crossed, shoulders hunched, trying not to look cold but clearly shivering.
She handed him the bundle. "Here. Layers. Don't be dramatic and freeze to death."
He stared at the gear like she had given him a small miracle. "You were… really prepared."
"I have a thing about socks," she said. Tone flat, but eyes bright.
Adrian smiled crookedly. He didn't ask her how she had managed it. He just accepted it, like she knew what she was doing and always would.
—
An hour later, everyone was in the main hall.
The fireplace had been stuffed with broken chairs and the remains of half-read books. It burned hot and wild, flickering long shadows across the cracked walls.
The group looked haggard. Everyone wore matching thermal gear, nondescript and unfamiliar. Faces were pale, eyes still swollen from sleep. But the smell of hot food perked their heads.
Ellis clutched his mug like it was the last good thing on Earth. "I don't know how you did it," he said, voice gruff, "but I might actually cry. This has flavor. Real flavor."
Julyah didn't reply. She just stirred another pot and ladled out bowls.
At the edge of the room, Adrian stood by the fire. His voice was steady, but his eyes were on the windows. "This storm isn't random," he said. "This is a warning. If this is what winter looks like now, we're not ready."
Tom nodded, frowning. "We're low on fuel. Water's running out. The meds are too few for another emergency."
"I'll go," Bryce said. He was already slipping on boots still caked with mud from their last supply run. "I'll take someone. We'll find a safe route."
Julyah didn't speak. Her hand slipped to her wrist. Her tattoo pulsed under her skin, as if it could read her mind.
She could help.
She had enough supplies secreted away to last them a month of storms. More than enough to share. But not yet. Not until she knew the danger wasn't greater than this storm. Not until she was sure revealing her secret wouldn't cost her everything.
So she said nothing.
Adrian's eyes found her from across the room. He didn't ask out loud. He didn't need to. He was already reading her silence.
—
Later, the room emptied. The others shuffled off to add boards to windows, double-check doors, and plan another food rotation. Only Adrian stayed behind.
He stood close to the fire, back to her.
She didn't speak first.
"You gave out supplies you didn't want anyone to know about," he said, quietly. "Why?"
She looked down at her hands. Skin raw and cracked from the cold. "Because I'm tired," she said. "Tired of watching people fall apart. I can't fix the world. But I can give people socks. That's something."
Adrian turned to face her fully.
"That's not nothing," he said. His voice was calm.
But his eyes held something else. Something heavy. He stepped closer. Slowly. Carefully. Like approaching a fire that might go out if he moved too fast.
His hand hovered near hers. Then it touched the edge of her wrist.
The tattoo shimmered beneath his touch. Just for a second.
He didn't pull away.
"I know you're keeping something," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm not going to ask."
Julyah felt her throat constrict. She didn't speak. Couldn't.
Outside, the storm screamed, louder than before. Snow hit the windows hard. Wind howled down the chimney. The world outside the walls was white and wild.
But inside the hall, in that small circle of warmth by the fire, it felt different.
It felt safe.
Adrian didn't move away. His presence was quiet. Solid. The kind of strength that didn't ask for praise.
And for the first time since the sky had turned white, Julyah didn't feel alone.