When winter came, the world turned quiet — so quiet that even the sound of a falling branch echoed through the still forest.
Inside their stone cave, life found a slow rhythm again — warm fires, laughter of cubs, and the scent of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling.
Evan had decided to learn sewing properly. Though the System had once provided him with a basic clothing draft, his own sewing skills were only at a beginner level. The first few days were a disaster — uneven stitches, fabric that didn't line up, and needles that kept breaking.
The System had given him step-by-step guidance, but it still took time. And patience.
Silas didn't know about the System; Evan had never told him. To Silas, it seemed his mate was simply an unusually clever female with an instinct for survival. Sometimes, when Evan muttered quietly to himself or stared at thin air as if reading something invisible, Silas would just smile to himself — assuming females had strange thinking habits.
So for nearly two weeks, Evan practiced.
He started by patching old fur wraps, then sewing small bags from scraps. When the stitches finally began to look neat, he dared to start on something more ambitious — clothes. His fingers ached from work, but the sight of smooth seams and straight edges filled him with quiet satisfaction.
At night, after the cubs had fallen asleep, he often sat by the fire, the silver-white glow from Silas's shed skin resting across his lap.
---
The serpent beastman had shed his skin a weeks ago — smooth, glistening, and soft as water silk. When Silas had handed it to him that morning, Evan hadn't realized what it was at first. He'd only thought how beautiful and light it felt, like woven moonlight.
Later, when he finally asked, Silas had chuckled quietly.
"It's mine," he said simply. "Shed skin. Keep it. It's good material — soft and warm."
Evan had blinked in surprise. "You mean this came from you?"
Silas nodded. "Does it scare you?"
"No," Evan replied quickly, shaking his head. Then, softer, "Does it hurt?"
That question made Silas pause — and smile. A small, amused smile that softened his usually sharp features. "No. Shedding is natural. It's like… letting the old skin fall away for new life to grow."
Evan had looked at him then — at the pale gleam of his scales, at the serene steadiness in his green eyes — and felt something shift quietly in his heart.
He touched the fabric again that night, tracing the silver shimmer. It would make the perfect winter clothes, he thought.
---
By the end of the second week, he managed to sew simplified coats — soft, warm, and functional. He stitched the shed skin into smooth panels, combining them with furs Silas had brought from his hunts.
The result was unlike anything Silas had seen. The coat shimmered faintly like starlight, smooth and warm, yet surprisingly light.
The cubs twirled in excitement when he made smaller matching ones for them. "Mama! It's so shiny!" one squealed, spinning. "It feels like father's scales!" the other giggled.
Evan laughed, wiping sweat from his forehead. "That's because it is."
When Silas returned from a short hunt, he found all three of them dressed in pale, gleaming coats, standing proudly in front of the fire.
He blinked once, speechless for a rare moment. "You made these?"
Evan nodded shyly. "It took a while, but… yes."
Silas stepped closer, brushing his fingers over the fabric. It was his own shed skin — but transformed, reborn through Evan's patient work. He felt something deep and old stir inside him, something akin to pride and… belonging.
"You've done well," he said softly.
The praise made Evan's cheeks warm. "It's not perfect. I still can't sew the inner seams evenly."
Silas's lips curved faintly. "It's perfect enough."
---
Encouraged, Evan decided to try something new — shoes.
His first attempts were clumsy; the leather too stiff, the shape awkward. The System offered a simple pattern and instructions, but Evan had to learn by trial and error. After a few tries, he finally made soft boots, lined with fur and tightened by twisted vines.
When he showed them to Silas, the snake orc stared for a long moment, then chuckled quietly. "You females do have strange ideas… covering your feet with animal skin."
Evan laughed. "You don't know how cold it gets when you don't have scales."
The cubs found it funny too — they wore their little fur shoes proudly, stomping in the snow just outside the cave while Silas kept a watchful eye. Their laughter echoed faintly through the white forest.
For a brief time, life was peaceful.
---
That night, as Evan sat by the fire, the familiar chime of the System echoed in his mind:
[Ding! Family Points: 1000 achieved. Upgrade available.]
[System will now enter maintenance for 24 hours. Functions suspended.]
The blue interface flickered and vanished.
Evan sighed softly. "So even you need sleep sometimes," he murmured.
"What did you say?" Silas asked from nearby, his tone mild.
"Nothing," Evan smiled faintly. "Just… thinking out loud."
The orc tilted his head, his sharp gaze softening. "You think too much."
Evan laughed quietly. "If I didn't, we'd probably be living off roots and frozen tasteless meat by now."
Silas didn't argue — he just watched his mate with a calm, unreadable expression, the firelight gleaming across his scales.
---
The next morning, when Evan awoke, the System's voice returned, cool and smooth.
[System upgrade complete. Version 2.0 active.]
[New Feature Unlocked: Small Storage Space (1 sq. ft) — Herbal Preservation Chamber.]
[Bonus Items: Two Recovery Pills added to inventory.]
Evan blinked, smiling in surprise. "A storage space?"
He imagined it — and a small, glowing cube appeared before him. Carefully, he reached for a handful of dried herbs and placed them inside. They shimmered once, then disappeared.
"Convenient…" he whispered. "They won't rot or lose scent now."
He tried again with a small pouch of taro powder — safely sealed.
The System hummed softly:
[Storage Stable. Herbs preserved indefinitely.]
Silas, who had been skinning a small snow hare nearby, glanced over. "Talking to yourself again?"
Evan startled slightly, flushing. "Ah—just… checking something in my mind."
Silas only smiled faintly, clearly used to it. "As long as it keeps you happy."
---
Later that day, Silas went out to check , any abnormalities in the forest . The forest was silent under its snowy veil, branches heavy with ice. The air was sharp, his breath a pale mist.
But then he saw it — faint impressions half-buried in the snow.
Large, clawed footprints. Not animal.Orcs.
Silas crouched, fingertips brushing the edge of one print. The size suggested a feline-type or rogue orcs, adult, strong. The trail circled the edge of their territory before fading near the frozen stream.
His pupils thinned to sharp slits.
Someone had been there — watching.
---
When he returned to the cave, Evan noticed his expression immediately.
"Silas? Did something happen?"
Silas eyes scanning the snow-covered entrance. "Tracks. Not prey."
Evan's heart tightened. "You mean… another orcs?"
"Possibly," he said quietly. "They were cautious. Not close enough to be careless."
"What will you do?"
"For now, nothing," Silas replied, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I'll check again tomorrow .You and the cubs stay inside unless I'm with you."
Evan nodded slowly, worry flickering across his face. He hesitated, then reached out, fingers brushing his mate's wrist gently. "Be careful."
Silas's gaze softened at that. "Always."
---
That night, snow fell again — heavier than before.
The fire burned low, its light dancing across the stone walls.
Evan sat beside near the cubs chamber, mending a glove, while Silas kept silent watch near the entrance. Every so often, his tail flicked slightly, restless.
Evan looked at him from the corner of his eye — the tall figure, his emerald hair glinting faintly, eyes alert even in stillness.
He felt warmth and unease intertwine in his chest.
The System pulsed faintly in his mind, then went quiet again.
Outside, beyond the snow and stillness, something moved — unseen, waiting.
---