🍁 Chapter 13: First Winter
🌍 Earth Date: November 3, 100 BCE – First Frost
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"If we can't build walls, we'll build dreams." – Old Tamra
The first snow came sooner than they'd hoped. At first, just a thin, mocking veil — but by the third night, the winds had turned sharp and predatory. The valley, once pristine and inviting, now pressed in on them with cold, biting teeth.
The spruce forest gave what it could. Rough logs were hauled in teams, bark stripped and notched, mud plaster slapped between hurried wattle walls. Two communal lodges rose before the freeze locked the earth.
Men to the right lodge, women to the left. No exceptions. Not even for the host family.
Junjie slept by the outer wall, where his breath froze in front of him. Lianhua wrapped herself in every spare scrap of cloth, and Chengde took first fire-watch on the nights their goats grew restless. Their family — once quiet and respected — was now just one among dozens, all pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, heat pooled only around the central hearth.
Nano's voice flickered in his mind like a trapped spark.
"Detected: Seventeen stress nodes. Three potential interpersonal conflicts within twenty-four hours. Recommend strategic retreat or distraction."
Junjie sighed. No escape. Not in the biting cold. Not with the constant murmurs in the dark.
The communal life was harsh. Even the healthy looked sallow. Hands chapped. Tempers flared over firewood, sleeping spots, and spilled grain. A child's cry at night would set off a wave of shushing, then whispers, then silence again.
By day, they worked. Limited tasks — the ground was freezing fast, but some things could not wait:
• Loose stones were hauled from nearby slopes and riverbeds.
• Timber — primarily spruce, with the resinous juniper saved for smoking meats and medicinal fires — was counted and stacked.
• Root cellars were dug early, with Junjie subtly guiding their placement to the frost-stable ground near the river bend.
Old Tamra ran a rough hand over the curing plaster. "I've never seen walls set this firmly before," she murmured. "This mortar isn't just sticky mud — it's hardening fast, and the longer it cures, the stronger it will become."
Her companion nodded, eyes bright. "Like the traders said — if this holds, we'll be building homes to last for generations, not just seasons."
Fires ran hotter. The forge — such as it was — began shaping crude nails and chisels. Someone joked that Junjie must dream in iron.
He only smiled.
That winter was more than cold.
It was cramped — in body, in breath, and in thought. But it was not hopeless.
Plans were scratched into frost-glazed slates. Floor plans and future streets. Workshops imagined, then half-built in dreams. The blacksmith-to-be taught stone alignment at night, lining pebbles along the fire's edge to demonstrate load-bearing angles.
And the animals endured. The mules survived under lean-tos of brush and tarp. The chickens huddled in crates packed with dry moss. The goats remained restless.
One disappeared. They never found it.
But the next morning, Junjie saw prints in the snow that didn't match any wild animal he knew.
His sharp eyes followed the trail, winding through frosted thickets and rocky outcrops. The footprints grew larger, deeper — belonging to a predator both rare and deadly.
A snow leopard.
Junjie moved swiftly, silent as the falling flakes, closing the distance with calm focus. The beast's golden eyes flicked up, muscles coiled, but Junjie was faster, striking true with a spear he had fashioned himself.
The leopard's struggle was brief.
He dragged the heavy carcass back to the village, a grim trophy and a warning.
The villagers gathered, murmuring in awe and gratitude.
Nano said nothing. But Junjie could feel a vague... satisfaction.
They survived.
Barely. But the valley held. The river didn't freeze solid. And in the deep of night, when all were asleep, Junjie would sometimes walk the snowy banks alone, looking up at the stars.
🌀 Claustrophobia + Junjie's Fraying Edges
The lodges reek of coal smoke, body heat, wet animal hair, and unwashed bodies.
Someone is always watching him and talking at him.
Junjie's muttering under his breath, pacing at night, staring into the fire. Nano notices.
🤖 Nano Prompt:
"This arrangement is... suboptimal," Nano murmurs through the bracer, voice modulated to not carry. "We require an isolated lab. Low humidity. Minimal noise. Secure ingress. Unmonitored egress."
Junjie grunts. "You want me to build you a cave?"
"Incorrect. I want you to find one. Then I'll build us both something better."
Nano mentioned weeks ago that he'd scanned warm spots under the ground — subsurface voids, mineral signatures, bat droppings. "There's one northeast of the ridge. Another near the old slide path. Choose one."
One day," he whispered, "I'll raise cities here. Real ones. This will all change."
"Begin with stone," Nano replied, quiet and cryptic. "Stone remembers."
"The moment this storm breaks," Junjie muttered, "I'm going up the mountain."
Nano's voice was quiet, pleased. "Good. Take the spade."