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The scent of roasted meat and simmering stew filled the air, driving away the chill that had crept into the stone walls. Silas worked in silence, tail swaying idly as he turned the spits and stirred the pot with practiced grace. The firelight danced across his scales, gleaming faintly gold at the edges, while Evan crouched beside him, murmuring instructions between soft smiles.
Kael sat a little apart at first, his gaze darting between them and the fire. The smell—spiced, rich, unfamiliar—made his stomach twist with hunger and curiosity. He had eaten raw meat most of his life, barely cooked over dying embers. Never had he seen vegetables mixed with meat, nor that strange bubbling broth that gave off such warmth.
When Silas handed him a wooden bowl, Kael took it with suspicion at first. He stared at the contents, steam curling upward, before daring a taste.
His eyes widened.
The flavors were unlike anything he had ever known—savory, tender, full. His throat worked soundlessly for a moment before he managed a rough, quiet word. "This… what is this?"
Evan laughed softly from beside the fire, his hands cupped around his own bowl. "Just stew. Simple food where I come from."
"Simple?" Kael muttered, taking another eager bite. "This… tastes like magic."
Silas's lips twitched in amusement. "Then perhaps, magic lies in Evan's hands, not mine."
Evan's cheeks warmed, and he ducked his head, pretending to sip.
For a while, only the sounds of eating and the crackle of fire filled the space. The cubs, now clean and wrapped in warm furs, giggled quietly, passing pieces of roasted meat between them. The sight eased the tension that had lingered since the battle. For the first time in days, warmth — both from the fire and their hearts — began to seep in.
When the meal was done, Silas turned to Evan with that soft but firm tone that always left little room for argument.
"Go clean up and rest," he said. "You're still shivering."
Evan wanted to protest, but the concern in Silas's serpent-like eyes made him nod quietly. He went to their chamber to clean himself thinking of making a bathroom for winter; inside the water in the bucket was now warmed by the stones Silas had dropped in earlier.
By the time he returned, Silas had already arranged and cleaned the things out. The cubs were curled together in the hall , yawning and fighting sleep.
"They wanted to sleep with you tonight," Silas said, adjusting the things "So they'll sleep in our chamber with us."
Evan smiled faintly and nodded. The cave, once cold and cavernous, now felt like a small home — the fire casting long shadows over the walls, the air heavy with the scent of food and fur.
Kael stood awkwardly near the doorway, unsure where to go. Silas motioned toward the hall.
"You'll sleep there," he said, dragging a thick hide mattress toward him. He tossed over a snow-white fur blanket."It's not much, but it's warm."
Kael blinked down at it, clearly bewildered.
"This is… for me?" he asked quietly. His voice sounded uncertain, almost too small for someone his size.
"Yes," Silas replied simply. "You're a guest. And injured."
Kael's throat worked. His eyes flicked between the comfortable bedding and the cave around him—walls smoothed by care, herbs hanging neatly from woven ropes, a small shelf of wooden and stone-carved jars. He had never seen a place like this. Orc homes were crude shelters—rough, temporary, made for survival. But this... this felt alive. Lived-in. Warm.
"How can an orc's den be so…" He struggled for a word, his claws brushing the fur blanket which was so smooth to touch ,as if to test if it was real. "So beautiful?"
Evan, freshly washed, smiled from the corner where he was drying his hair with a cloth. "Because it's not just an orc's den anymore," he said softly. "It's home."
Kael stared at him for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze.
He looked away, muttering, "Home…" as if the word itself was foreign on his tongue.
"He'd fought for land, for dominance, for blood—but never for something as simple as warmth."
Silas finished arranging the bedding for the cubs, then sat down beside Evan. The snake orc's eyes softened as he took in the sight—the flickering firelight, the faint laughter of the cubs as they played with the wooden toys, Kael sitting awkwardly on the fur mattress with the expression of a beast who had just discovered comfort for the first time.
Evan leaned against Silas's shoulder, whispering, "You know… I think he's never had a place to rest like this."
Silas's gaze lingered on Kael. "Most haven't," he murmured. "Only you had these different ideas , usually normal orcs cave are crude except the tribe head or the priest"
The two fell quiet, listening to the low hum of the fire. The cubs eventually tired, crawling onto their shared bedding. Evan brushed their hair back tenderly before slipping into the space Silas had made for them. The serpent's tail curled protectively around all three of them as if to shield them from the cold, the pain, and the memories of blood.
Kael, from his place near the fire, watched it all—the easy affection, the safety, the laughter. For the first time in years, his chest ached not from wounds, but from something deeper. Something he couldn't name.
He lay down slowly, the softness of the furs startling against his skin. The warmth seeped into his bones. His eyelids grew heavy.
Just before sleep claimed him, he heard Evan's sleepy voice murmur from across the room.
"Goodnight, Kael."
There was a pause—then a low, rough reply. "Goodnight… little one."
The storm raged outside, wind clawing at the cave entrance—but within, a fragile calm settled.
For one night, the mountain was not just a place of survival, but a sanctuary.
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