The silence inside the cave was heavy, almost suffocating.
Only the crackling of the fire broke the emptiness, casting shadows that danced across the stone walls. Outside, the wind howled like a starving beast, dragging the snow against the entrance.
Oliver sat close to the fire, the horn knife resting beside him as he watched the unconscious girl lying a few steps away.
Her breathing was weak but steady.
Every now and then, her body trembled — perhaps from the cold, perhaps from the pain that still kept her trapped within her dreams.
Oliver rubbed his forehead and let out a sigh.
He couldn't believe what he had done.
He had risked his life — again — for someone he didn't even know.
A complete stranger.
"Idiot…" he muttered to himself, eyes still fixed on the fire. "You never learn, do you?"
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
In the glow of the flames, he saw the reflection of the last minutes of the fight.
Blood on the snow.
The desperation in the girl's eyes before she fell beneath the monster's attack.
He hadn't done it out of kindness — or at least that's what he wanted to believe.
Compassion was useless in this world; a luxury only the dead could afford.
"Maybe…" he whispered, "maybe I can use her."
It was a cold, practical thought.
Surviving alone had only been possible up to now out of sheer stubbornness. But the winter was growing crueler, the monsters more active, and food supplies… scarce.
If the girl was strong — and she was, he had seen it — they could help each other.
"You won't survive alone," he told himself.
And for the first time in weeks, that conclusion seemed… reasonable.
He stood and walked over to where the girl lay. The wolf pelt still covered her, but the blood had soaked through part of the fabric.
Oliver carefully removed the makeshift bandage and frowned at the wound.
It had been bleeding for hours.
If he didn't act soon, all his effort would have been for nothing.
He looked down at his own hand, hesitating for a moment — wondering whether he should do it or not.
His fingers moved slowly… and then a spark ignited in his palm.
A small, trembling yellow flame flickered to life, lighting his tired face.
The fire danced over his skin without burning it.
Oliver watched the glow with a mix of focus and melancholy.
He still remembered the first time it appeared — a night of desperation, during his first week in his frozen hell. He had been on the verge of hypothermia, shivering under a tree, when his body — or maybe his soul — reacted.
And the fire was born.
Not an ordinary flame, not just heat.
He had felt how it healed, closing wounds, bringing a trace of life back into his frozen body.
Since then, that spark had become his only faithful companion.
"Come on, work one more time," he whispered.
He brought his hand close to the girl's wound. The flame spread softly — not as a searing blaze, but as a gentle warmth.
The smell of blood and scorched flesh mingled with the smoke, but the torn skin slowly began to close.
Her breathing steadied.
Color returned to her lips.
And the fire vanished as the wound faded into a faint scar.
Oliver leaned back against the cave wall, exhaling a long breath.
"Still doing stupid things…" he muttered, staring at the ceiling. "But at least now I don't have another corpse to bury."
Time passed slowly.
While the fire crackled, Oliver cut slices of meat from the crocodile he had dragged to the entrance. The monster's hide was thick and hard to work through, but once cleaned, its flesh carried a strong, metallic scent.
He laid the meat on a heated rock near the fire and waited.
The smell of roasting meat filled the air, clashing with the stench of blood and dampness.
For a brief moment, everything felt… bearable.
Outside, the snowstorm raged harder than before. The sun was sinking, letting the shadows drape over the white, frozen hell.
Oliver ate first — not out of selfishness, but caution.
He had learned the hard way that not all monster meat was edible.
After a few bites, when his tongue didn't go numb and his stomach didn't twist, he decided it was safe.
Three hours passed before the girl stirred.
At first, it was just a faint tremor, a barely audible groan.
Then her eyelids opened slowly, revealing dark eyes that caught the firelight.
She looked at the rocky ceiling, then around, trying to understand where she was.
"Easy," said Oliver, raising his voice from across the fire. "Don't move too much. You're safe… for now."
The girl stared at him, confused, her breathing quick and shallow.
She tried to sit up, but her body trembled — stiff from the cold and from lying still for so long.
"Where…?" she managed to whisper.
"In a cave. I brought you here after that damn crocodile almost tore you in half," he replied casually, turning the meat over on the rock. "If I hadn't, you'd be dead by now."
Her eyes went instinctively to her abdomen.
The blood was gone — her skin bore no scar, only the torn fabric as proof of the old wound.
The girl's eyes widened in disbelief, her trembling hand brushing over the spot where the wound had been.
"…You… healed me?"
Oliver nodded slowly.
"Let's just say yeah. You were too lucky to die right after I dragged you through the whole damn forest."
His tone was dry, almost irritated, but beneath it was more weariness than anger.
She watched him for a few more seconds, as if deciding whether to trust him.
Then she lowered her gaze in silence.
Oliver picked up a cooked piece of meat and held it out.
"Eat. I don't know how long it's been since your last meal, but I promise it's not poisoned."
The girl hesitated, but hunger won.
She took the piece cautiously, smelled it, and began to eat slowly.
For a while, the only sounds were the fire crackling and the crunch of meat between teeth.
"How'd you end up with a wound like that?" Oliver asked without looking at her, his tone almost indifferent.
The girl paused for a second before answering.
"Carelessness," she said simply, offering no more explanation.
He raised an eyebrow but didn't press further.
It wasn't his business. And in that world, everyone carried their own secrets — including him.
The silence returned, though it felt less heavy than before.
Oliver tossed her another piece of meat.
She caught it easily in midair.
That made him smirk slightly.
She had reflexes — confirming what he already suspected: she wasn't just some survivor; she was a trained fighter.
"I suppose we should at least know who we're talking to," he said finally, wiping his hands on the wolf pelt. "I'm Oliver."
The girl chewed another bite and replied without hesitation:
"Kira."
Oliver nodded, satisfied with the simple response.
"All right, Kira. If you're staying here till you recover, just don't try to kill me while I sleep. I've got enough problems already."
Kira stared at him expressionlessly and said,
"That depends on whether you try to attack me."
For the first time in a long while, Oliver let out a short laugh.
"You've got guts, at least. I like that."
The fire crackled between them.
And for a moment, while the wind roared outside, the warmth inside the cave felt less hostile.
They weren't friends — not even allies, really — just two strangers sharing the same space to survive.
---
After finishing his meal, Oliver tossed a few more dry branches onto the fire to keep it alive.
He wasn't worried about beasts finding them; the cave was deep enough to hide the glow of the flames.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Kira resting against the frozen cave wall.
He thought about starting a conversation, but no words came. He opened his mouth once… then closed it again.
"If you've got something to say, just say it," Kira spoke suddenly, without taking her eyes off the fire.
Oliver nodded awkwardly.
"How about we make a deal?" he asked, studying her carefully.
Kira met his gaze. Her dark eyes, deep as the abyss itself, remained calm and unreadable.
Oliver had no way of knowing if she'd agree, but it was worth a try.
He wasn't strong — barely surviving in that hostile world. But if he joined forces with her, his odds would improve. And he had healing fire — a rare and useful gift.
"What kind of deal?" Kira finally asked after a pause.
"Nothing complicated. An alliance," Oliver explained. "To survive in this place. The climate, the creatures — everything here wants us dead. Alone, we won't last long. But together, we might stand a chance."
Kira studied him in silence, then nodded slowly.
"All right," she said. "I accept."
Oliver couldn't help but smile, a bit relieved.
"Then… maybe we should share what we can do," he suggested. "So we don't get in each other's way."
He had two reasons for saying that.
First, because cooperation required knowing each other's strengths and limits.
Second — and more practical — was caution. If he knew Kira's abilities, he could plan an escape in case things went wrong.
Survival came first.
Though he disliked revealing his own gift, he knew he had to if he wanted her trust.
"I'll start," he said after a brief pause.
"I can create and control fire — not very strong, but useful for distraction or light. The fire I make can also heal moderate wounds. And… I'm a decent hunter."
Kira listened intently, her face unchanged.
"I see," she replied calmly.
"As for me," she added, "I can manipulate shadows and ice. I can see in the dark, and I'm trained to fight — with or without weapons."
Oliver nodded slowly, processing it.
So she controls shadows and ice… that explains why she doesn't feel the cold like I do, he thought.
He remembered the battle with the white crocodile: even wounded, Kira had fought that colossal beast and managed to wound it before being struck down.
If he hadn't intervened, he was sure they'd both be dead.
His gaze drifted toward the cave entrance. Outside, the snowstorm still raged with the same fury.
Hope the weather's better tomorrow, he thought, leaning back against the cold stone and watching the snow swirl in the darkness.
On Earth, Oliver had never seen real snow. His homeland — tropical and humid — had never known winter.
He had always wanted to see it, to touch it, to feel it. But now, surrounded by white and cold, he only missed the warmth of the sun… the soft brush of a warm breeze against his skin.
I guess no one knows what they have until it's gone, he thought with a tired smile.
The cave fell silent again.
They had said all that needed to be said for one night.
Tomorrow, they would have to move on — and leave the frozen land behind.