The dawn crept pale and thin across the frozen valley.
Snow glittered like crushed glass beneath the faint morning light, and the cold stung the air sharp enough to taste.
Evan stirred first. His lashes fluttered as he blinked at the dim embers of the dying fire. Silas's arm was draped heavily around his waist, the scales faintly warm even through the layers of fur. The rhythmic rise and fall of that broad chest lulled him into stillness — the kind that felt both safe and unreal.
Silas had fallen asleep sitting upright, still in his half-shifted form. His tail was coiled protectively around them, as though his body refused to rest unless it could guard what it held dear. Even in slumber, his expression remained alert — the faint furrow between his brows a reminder that beasts rarely dream without vigilance.
Evan smiled faintly and reached out, brushing his fingers across Silas's cheek. The warmth there made his chest ache. He's alive. He came back.
Before the emotion could swell too far, a low, rough voice broke the silence.
"You two plan on staying here forever?"
Evan flinched, head snapping toward the far wall.
Kael was awake — leaning against the stone, his dark hair disheveled, golden eyes gleaming faintly in the half-light. The deep gashes across his arm were already sealing, dark crusts forming over claw marks.
Silas's eyes opened instantly. The soft gray of morning reflected in them for only a second before a cold emerald glow took over.
Kael gave a crooked smile. "Morning. Didn't mean to interrupt your… reunion."
Silas didn't answer. His coils loosened as he rose to his full height, tail sweeping against the stone floor. The faint hiss that escaped him wasn't entirely human.
"Silas," Evan whispered, his hand catching on the serpent's sleeve. "Don't."
The simple touch steadied him. Silas exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing the scales along his arms to fade. "We're leaving," he said curtly.
Evan nodded quickly, already gathering his belongings. Kael pushed himself upright, favoring his injured side but refusing to show weakness.
Outside, the wind was cruel.
The snowdrifts had thickened during the night; every step sank nearly to their knees, the white world stretching endlessly around them. Their breath came out in plumes, ghosts vanishing into the cold.
Silas led the way, cutting through the snow with inhuman ease. Evan followed close behind, clutching his fur-lined coat tighter. Kael limped a short distance behind them, his broad shoulders hunched against the cold, leaving uneven prints beside their trail.
Hours passed with only the whisper of wind and the crunch of boots. The forest loomed in silent witness.
Evan's fingers were numb. Still, he found his gaze drifting back to Kael again and again. The panther's movements were slower now, each breath shallow. He was bleeding again — small crimson dots speckled the snow.
"Kael, wait," Evan said suddenly, stopping in his tracks. "You're bleeding again."
Kael gave a dry chuckle, his breath misting in the air. "Not the first time I've bleed."
"Still…" Evan rummaged in his pack, pulling out a strip of cloth. "Let me help, or you'll make it worse."
Kael arched a brow, half amused. "You patch up strangers too, or just the ones your mate glares at?"
Evan smiled weakly. "Maybe just the reckless ones."
Silas had stopped ahead, his body tense. He turned, emerald eyes narrowing when he saw Evan kneeling before Kael, carefully tying the makeshift bandage.
Kael noticed the stare immediately. "Your mate's kindhearted," he said, his voice lazy but laced with a quiet provocation.
Silas's reply was low, guttural. "He's mine."
Evan froze, startled by the sound — protective, possessive, dangerous.
"Silas—" he began softly.
Kael smirked, unbothered. "Relax, snake. I'm not foolish enough to touch what belongs to you. I prefer my skin intact."
The air hung heavy between them until Silas finally turned away, tail flicking once with a sharp swish.
Evan sighed, finishing the knot. "He's just… protective," he murmured.
Kael looked down at him, golden eyes gleaming faintly softer. "Then you're lucky. Few beasts fight the world for someone else."
Evan hesitated, then whispered, "I know."
They moved on.
By afternoon, the storm's teeth dulled. The snow grew shallow, dotted with patches of dark soil. Pines appeared along the horizon, their green tips crowned with frost. The air smelled faintly of woodsmoke — faint but familiar.
Evan's pace quickened, heart leaping. "We're close."
Silas slowed slightly, glancing back. The tension in his shoulders eased when he saw Evan's face light up. "Yes," he said, voice low but warm. "Home."
Kael's ears twitched beneath his dark hair. "You live with others?"
Silas shook his head. "No. Just our family. Four of us."
Kael tilted his head thoughtfully. "Then maybe I'll travel that way too. Just until my wounds close."
Silas stopped mid-step. His tail swept behind him, slow and deliberate. "That depends on how much I trust you."
Kael gave a small smirk. "Then I'll try not to bite."
"Don't test me," Silas hissed, eyes narrowing.
The tension thickened like mist — sharp, alive.
Evan quickly stepped between them, exhaling through his hands to warm his fingers. "Please. Let's just get back first. You can threaten each other later."
That earned a reluctant silence. Kael gave a quiet snort; Silas only turned his head forward again, but the corners of his mouth twitched — almost like a restrained smile.
As they descended the final ridge, the horizon shimmered with faint orange light. Trails of smoke rose from the valley, curling toward the pale sky. The familiar scent of pine sap and ash grew stronger.
"They must have been worried sick," Silas murmured, his tone gentler now.
Evan swallowed, blinking fast. "Leo… Milo… I hope they're all right."
"They're strong," Silas said. "Like their mother."
Evan smiled faintly. "You always call me that when you're trying to make me blush."
A soft huff left Silas's nose — part amusement, part relief. "Is it working?"
"Maybe," Evan admitted, hiding his face in his scarf.
Kael let out a quiet laugh behind them. "Never thought I'd live to see a cold-blooded snake flirt in the snow."
Silas didn't even turn. "Keep talking, and I'll show you how cold I can be."
Evan's muffled laugh carried into the twilight, light and real — the first sound of peace after days of fear.
The sun slipped behind the hills, painting the world in gold and violet.
Three figures — one silver, one dark, one small and steady — wound their way down the mountain path, shadows stretching long before them.
No one spoke after that, but the air between them pulsed with unspoken understanding. Gratitude. Tension. Something fragile, unnamed.
And deep within Silas's chest, something primal whispered — not in anger, but in warning.
Because fate had just braided a new thread into their story.
And threads like that never came without consequence.
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