Kale moved through the forest with fresh confidence. Winter wasn't just cold and silence—it was life, just a different kind of it. Snow-covered trees stood like frozen giants, their bark hidden beneath thick layers of white. Some plants still thrived under the frost—like the Glacier Berry Bushes that clung to life with icy fruit that never spoiled, or the Frostbark Trees, whose inner pulp could be brewed into warmth-giving tea.
He carried his sack over one shoulder, filled with herbs and berries he'd gathered along the way. He wasn't a beggar anymore. Not really. The city streets had been his home once, but now? Now the forest was where he belonged.
"Maybe I can build something real," he said to himself, eyes scanning the quiet woods. "Not just a shack. A proper house." He shook his head. "Later. First things first."
Hunting came before dreams of comfort. And today, he had a plan.
Winter brought out new kinds of prey—those built for the cold. The Ironhide Boars were bigger this time of year, their fur thicker, their bodies heavier with stored fat. Perfect for hides and meat. If he could take one down, he'd have enough to trade for supplies—and maybe even keep some for himself.
As he walked, a small flame hovered above his palm, flickering gently in the cold air. It didn't burn him. Didn't waver unless he let it. In just five days, he had already learned so much. He could shape the flame, send it flying midair, and pull it back like a thread. He could spread warmth across his clothes without lighting them on fire. But he had also learned the hard way that too much use left him drained. His hands trembled if he summoned flames too often. His vision blurred slightly after long sessions of practice.
Still, he smiled as he worked.
He found a good spot near a grove of Frostbark trees and set up a trap using sharpened sticks and vines the Ocean had guided him to. This wasn't meant to kill. Just slow the boar down long enough for him to strike.
Hours passed.
Kale wandered farther than he intended, distracted by thoughts of improvement, of future hunts, of what else the Ocean might show him. Then—
A loud crack echoed through the trees. The trap had been sprung.
He cursed under his breath and bolted toward the sound, spear in hand. It wasn't fancy. Just a sharpened stone bound to a wooden shaft with sap and vine—but it was better than the sticks he used before. He had learned from experience.
By the time he reached the site, his breath came in sharp clouds of mist. The boar was partially trapped—its front leg caught in the snare, but not deep enough. With a guttural grunt, it yanked itself free, shaking off snow and tension. Its tusks gleamed in the dim light, its thick hide rippling with muscle. This one was massive—nearly as tall as his waist, its fur bristling with frost and strength.
It turned sharply.
Kale barely had time to raise his spear before the beast charged.
He dove aside, rolling through snow and dirt. The boar barreled past, missing him by inches. He scrambled to his feet, heart hammering.
The Ocean whispered within him, threads of gold flickering at the edge of his sight. Move. Left. He obeyed, dodging just in time as the boar swung around, snorting steam into the frigid air.
Kale raised his spear and lunged forward, aiming for the base of the boar's neck. He struck hard. Deep. The blade sank in, and the creature let out a deafening roar.
But it wasn't dead yet.
With a final burst of rage, the boar twisted and snapped at Kale's arm. Teeth sank into flesh, pain lanced through him, and he gasped—but didn't pull away.
Instead, he gritted his teeth and focused.
The Ocean pulsed inside him, threads tightening around his thoughts. Flame stirred in his chest, coiling through his veins like wildfire waiting to be unleashed.
And then he let it go.
Heat surged from his body into the boar's mouth, pouring into the wound where its teeth had broken skin. The beast jerked back instantly, roaring in agony—but it was too late. The fire had already entered it.
Smoke rose from within the boar's throat, curling out of its nostrils. Its movements slowed. Its eyes glazed. One last twitch, one last stagger—and then it collapsed, steam rising from beneath its fur as the heat consumed it from the inside.
Kale fell to one knee, panting hard, arm throbbing. He pulled his hand away from the bite and winced. Blood mixed with snow, staining the ground red and white. But the boar was dead. And this time, he hadn't just fought it.
He had burned it alive.
He sat there for a second, catching his breath, staring at the steaming carcass. "Guess that works," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "Didn't think it would, but… yeah. That definitely works."
His body felt weaker than before. Using flame like that—especially while injured—took more out of him than expected. He needed rest. Maybe even sleep.
But first, he had work to do.
Just as he started tying the boar's legs together for dragging, a voice rang out from behind him:
"That was amazing, kid."
Kale froze.
He spun around, gripping his spear tightly. Standing there was someone he hadn't expected—a man, bundled in heavy furs, watching him with genuine interest. He held no weapon, showed no fear. Just curiosity.
Kale swallowed hard. "Who are you?"
The man stepped closer, snow crunching softly beneath his boots. "Name's Bren. I've been tracking these boars for days. Never seen anyone fight like that before."
Kale didn't know how to respond. No one had ever spoken to him like that—not with admiration, not with respect.
He studied the stranger carefully. "You're a hunter?"
Bren chuckled. "Yeah. And you… you're something else entirely."
Kale's grip loosened slightly, but not completely. He had just killed a monster with fire burning from inside it. And now, someone had seen him.
Someone knew what he could do.