The smoke of war had not yet fully faded, but time had already moved on.
A week had passed since the brutal clash with Earl Raymond's forces. In that brief window, Blackwood Fortress struggled back to life like a wounded beast—scarred, battered, but refusing to fall.
The shattered gate had been rebuilt, reinforced with whatever they could salvage. It stood crooked and uneven, more patchwork than structure, yet stubborn—like the people behind it.
No enemy came.
No horns in the distance. No marching boots. The forest swallowed all traces of the defeated army, leaving behind only an uneasy silence.
For a moment… they breathed.
But peace, in this land, never came alone.
It brought something worse.
—
That morning, as the first light broke through the forest, Colin felt it instantly.
Cold.
Not the ordinary chill of autumn—but something sharper, heavier. It crept into his muscles, stiffening them before he even fully registered it.
He looked out.
The world had changed overnight.
Everything was pale.
Frost coated the rooftops, the walls, the branches—thick and hard, gleaming faintly like iron under the weak sunlight. The ground beneath his feet had frozen solid; each step produced a brittle, grinding crunch.
He drew a breath—
—and winced.
The air stabbed into his lungs like needles.
Behind him, the door creaked open.
Goff stepped out, wrapped in a heavy wolf pelt. He said nothing at first, only crouched and scooped up a handful of frost.
He rubbed it slowly between his fingers.
Then he looked at the sky.
"This is bad."
Colin's gaze sharpened. "What do you mean?"
Goff didn't answer immediately. He pointed instead—to the forest's edge.
"No squirrels. No birds. Even the falcons… gone."
His voice lowered.
"I've seen this twice before. When I was young. Winter came early both times. Long. Brutal. Snow deep enough to bury half a man."
He turned to Colin, eyes heavy with memory.
"Animals froze… or went mad with hunger. Even wolves attacked villages."
A pause.
"Boy… this winter will kill people."
—
The words struck harder than any blade.
In an instant, Colin understood.
All his plans—defenses, weapons, training—none of them mattered if they starved or froze before the enemy even returned.
Food.
Firewood.
Warmth.
Survival.
Everything else could wait.
This could not.
—
"Everyone! Gather here! Now!"
His voice cut through the frozen morning like a blade.
Moments later, the entire outpost stood before him—confused, shivering, half-awake.
Colin didn't soften the truth.
He spoke it plainly.
Harshly.
When they heard what was coming—snow that could bury stakes, a winter that devoured beasts—fear rippled through them like a shockwave.
Colin didn't give it time to grow.
"From this moment on," he said coldly, "we stop preparing for war."
"We prepare to survive."
—
Orders came fast.
Sharp.
Unquestionable.
"Goff—you and Anna expand the hunting range. I want food every day. No excuses."
"Linna—take everyone who can move. Strip the forest of everything edible. Roots, nuts, mushrooms—everything."
"Lina—you identify and process it all. No mistakes."
"Everyone else—firewood. Everything that burns, bring it back."
—
And just like that—
The fortress moved.
Not like soldiers.
Like ants before a storm.
—
Days blurred together.
Goff and Anna became the lifeline—leaving at dawn, returning at dusk with whatever they could drag back.
Colin joined them.
And when they brought down a massive wild boar—huge, armored in mud and rage—it was Colin who faced it head-on.
No tricks.
No skills.
Just strength.
The spear bent under the beast's charge. The ground tore beneath his feet.
But he held.
And with one final thrust—
He drove the weapon through its eye.
When they hauled the carcass back—
For the first time in days—
People smiled.
—
In the forest, Lina and Lena worked like tireless gatherers.
Hands cracked.
Fingers bleeding.
Still, they dug.
Still, they searched.
Lena guided them—careful, precise—turning knowledge into survival.
—
Inside the walls, smoke never stopped rising.
Meat was salted, hung, smoked.
Roots sliced and dried.
Firewood stacked into towering piles.
Walls sealed with mud, moss, and dung to keep the cold out.
Every scrap.
Every resource.
Used.
Nothing wasted.
—
And still—
It wasn't enough.
Because the cold kept growing.
—
That evening, Colin stood once more atop the watchtower.
The sun bled into the horizon, the forest turning into a black silhouette.
Then—
Something touched his cheek.
Light.
Cold.
He raised his hand.
It melted instantly.
Water on his skin.
Colin froze.
Slowly…
He looked up.
The sky had turned a heavy, suffocating gray.
And from it—
Countless white specks drifted down.
Silent.
Endless.
Like ghosts.
Snow.
It had come.
Ten days too early.
Winter had arrived—
And it would not wait.