When Colin's hunting party returned to Blackwood Fortress, dragging behind them a mountain-sized bear carcass and six frost-stiffened deer, the outpost erupted.
Cheers exploded into the air.
The few who had remained behind—Lina, an elderly werewolf with a crippled leg, and two snot-nosed children—stared in disbelief before breaking into laughter and tears. The old man's eyes turned red as he looked at the sheer volume of meat, while the children ran circles around the massive bear, tugging at its thick, blood-matted fur as if it were a new toy.
For a brief moment, hunger and fear vanished.
Food meant survival.And survival meant hope.
But hope, if mishandled, could be just as dangerous as despair.
As the carcasses were butchered, the mood shifted.
"Haha! This bear paw is a treasure!" Linna shouted, bringing her blade down hard on bone. "We roast it tonight! Everyone eats well!"
Her words were met with laughter and eager agreement.
They had earned it.
They had risked their lives, fought beasts head-on, dragged prey across frozen ground. Pride burned in their chests—raw, justified, undeniable.
Nearby, Lina said nothing.
She glanced at the children, still laughing—but their lips were faintly purple from the cold. Then her eyes drifted to the old man, who watched the meat with quiet longing.
Her hands continued moving, cutting, sorting… but her heart sank.
Colin saw everything.
He understood Linna. Warriors needed recognition. Denying that would fracture morale.
But he also saw the future.
If this "earned privilege" took root, unity would rot from within. Today it was bear paws. Tomorrow, it would be division.
He needed to intervene.
Not with force.
With inevitability.
He stepped forward.
"Lina."
The chatter died down instantly.
The girl froze. "L-Lord Colin?"
"From this moment on," he said calmly, "all supplies in Blackwood Fortress—meat, furs, firewood, roots—will be under your control."
Silence.
Every pair of eyes turned to her.
"I… I can't…" Lina's voice trembled. "I'm not capable of something like that…"
"You are," Colin said, cutting her off.
His gaze locked onto hers—steady, immovable.
"I trust you."
Then, louder, so everyone could hear:
"Her decisions are my decisions. Anyone who disobeys her… disobeys me."
The words fell like iron.
No one spoke.
Linna's lips tightened—but she said nothing.
The authority had been decided.
Lina stood frozen.
The weight of it pressed down on her chest, stealing her breath. Fear clawed at her, urging her to step back, to refuse, to hide.
But Colin's trust held her in place.
Slowly, she straightened.
"…Yes, Lord Colin."
Her voice still trembled—but she did not retreat.
She did not begin distributing food immediately.
Instead, she began counting.
With Colin's help, every piece of meat was cut into equal portions—each roughly enough for one adult per day.
Six deer: 800 portions.Bear meat: 750 portions.Remaining jerky: 160 portions.Stored roots: 400 portions.
Total: 2,110.
She marked everything carefully onto wooden boards using charcoal, carving lines to represent quantity.
By the time she stepped out of the storehouse, dusk had already fallen.
Her hands were blackened. Her clothes stained with blood and ash.
But her eyes—her eyes were different.
Clear. Focused.
Alive with thought.
That night, while others rested, Lina did not sleep.
She sat alone, staring at the wooden boards.
Twelve people.
Ninety days of winter.
She drew twelve small figures.
Then, beside each one, she wrote: 90.
One by one, she added them.
That was what they needed to survive.
Then she looked at the total.
She calculated the difference slowly, carefully, using her fingers, marking each step.
Her breath caught.
That was more than enough.
Even if they did nothing, they could survive the winter… and still have food left.
A surge of joy rose in her chest—
—and then stopped.
Her expression changed.
Slowly… it hardened.
What happens… when people believe there is "enough"?
She thought of Linna's laughter.
Of the excitement over the bear paw.
Of how quickly restraint could vanish.
If they began indulging now…If discipline weakened…
This surplus would disappear.
And when it did—there would be nothing left.
No buffer. No safety.
Only hunger.
Only regret.
Her fingers tightened around the charcoal.
"No…"
She shook her head.
"This isn't surplus."
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"This is our lifeline."
The next morning, she stood before everyone.
The wooden boards were laid out in front of her.
"This," she said, pointing, "is us. Twelve people. Ninety days."
She explained the numbers simply.
No one argued.
Then she pointed to the total supply.
A murmur spread through the crowd.
"So much?" Linna blinked. "Then we can eat properly, right?"
Others nodded eagerly.
Lina didn't respond immediately.
Instead, she drew a circle.
"Yes," she said calmly. "This is what's left."
Hope flickered in their eyes—
—and she extinguished it.
"What if winter lasts longer?" she asked.
Silence.
"What if someone gets sick?"
No answer.
"What if we're besieged and can't hunt?"
The air grew heavy.
"This," she said, pointing to the number again, "is not extra."
"It is our shield."
"Our last defense against everything we cannot predict."
Her gaze swept across them.
"If we consume it now… we are tearing down that shield with our own hands."
No one spoke.
Not even Linna.
"So," Lina concluded, her voice steady, "all food will remain rationed."
"The children and elderly will receive additional nutrition."
"No waste. No hoarding."
"And only when winter ends… will this reserve be opened."
This time, no one objected.
Because no one could.
From that day on, Lina stood at the storehouse each morning.
Precise. Unyielding.
Every portion measured. Every deduction recorded.
Beside her, a wooden board marked two things:
Basic ReservesStrategic Reserves
One decreased.
The other remained untouched.
Like hope.
From the watchtower above, Colin watched in silence.
The timid girl who once avoided eye contact now stood firm before everyone, wielding not strength—but certainty.
Not force—but reason.
He allowed himself a faint smile.
He had not chosen wrong.
A warrior wins battles.
But someone like Lina…
Ensures there is still something left to protect after the battle is over.