Three weeks had passed since Kael entered their lives, and the cave felt different now—more warmer, louder, fuller because of the new member.
Leo and Milo treated Kael like their own, always climbing on him, begging him to teach them how to fight like "real warriors."
Kael pretended to be annoyed, but his tail always betrayed him, wagging gently behind him.
Peaceful.
Settled.
Comfortable.
Even Silas, who at first kept Kael at arm's length, slowly relaxed his guard. The wary glances softened, the stiff shoulders loosened. He no longer watched Kael like a potential threat but like an unfamiliar… yet welcome presence.
Some evenings, Silas even shared silent moments with him—fixing tools together, carrying wood side-by-side, or simply sitting near the fire with a quiet nod of acknowledgment.
Evan noticed it too. Where he once kept conversations neutral and polite, he now laughed with Kael, teased him lightly, shared recipes, and explained random things Kael didn't understand. Evan treated him not as a guest or rescued stranger, but as someone who belonged here—someone he could trust.
And Kael, in his shy, slow way, blossomed under that warmth. His shoulders lifted. His voice steadied. He became more open, more eager, more… comfortable. The cave wasn't just a shelter anymore—it was becoming a place where he was gently, slowly being woven into the family's rhythm.
(.... .... ....)
But life has its own sense of humor.
Just when everything finally felt perfect… a new problem crept in.
(.... .... ....)
Yesterday, the cubs had insisted on playing in the snow outside the cave.
They chased each other around until their cheeks turned bright red, rolling and laughing and stuffing snow down Kael's back whenever he wasn't looking.
Evan had warned them,
"Enough snow. Come inside. Your noses are freezing."
But the cubs only giggled and ran again.
Kael eventually carried them in like sacks of flour, all three drenched in melted snow.
Evan had dried them, wrapped them up, fed them soup, and kissed their heads.
They went to sleep warm and happy.
So the next morning was… strange.
.....
Kael woke first.
He always did.
Even after three weeks of comfort, the habit of early rising clung to him.
He stretched quietly and walked toward the smaller sleeping corner where Leo and Milo usually slept.
They were always first to leap out of bed—
running straight to Evan, demanding food or hugs or stories.
But today…
Silence.
Kael frowned.
"…Leo? Milo?"
He kneeled down.
Both cubs lay unnaturally still, curled tightly under their blankets.
When he touched Leo's cheek to wake him—
Hot.
Alarmingly hot.
Kael's heart dropped.
"Milo…?"
He checked the second cub.
Also burning.
His breath stuttered.
A cold panic crawled up his spine.
No no no… what happened? They were fine last night. Spirits, did I… did we anger something? Did I fail to protect them?
He scooped both cubs gently into his arms and rushed toward Silas and Evan's sleeping area.
"Silas! Evan!"
His voice cracked.
It was the first time it had ever cracked in this cave.
.....
Silas jolted awake instantly, instincts reacting before his mind.
He saw the cubs limp in Kael's arms—and his heart slammed against his ribs.
"Kael… why are they—"
"H..Hot," Kael whispered, trembling.
"They're burning. Both of them."
Silas took Leo and Milo into his own arms, holding them close.
The heat radiating from their small bodies made his fingers curl in fear.
Evan was already up, hair messy, eyes wide.
He rushed to touch their foreheads.
Too hot.
Too fast.
His chest tightened painfully.
Not here. Not now. They're so small…
Silas's voice broke, "How, Why, Oh Beast God,help them. Please."
Kael stood behind them helplessly, ears flattened, tail tucked, guilt twisting in his stomach.
"They… they played in the snow too long yesterday… Did th-that cause it? I should've made them come in sooner—"
"Kael," Evan said firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder, "this isn't your fault."
"But—"
"It isn't."
Kael swallowed hard, tears stinging behind his eyes.
"They will die , I don't want them dead.Back in my tribe many cubs dies like this in winter season. Oh no no , Beast God please save them."
Evan inhaled deeply.
Calm.
Think.
"Silas , Kael calm down it's just a fever .Leo and Milo will get better.OK"
" You can cure them,Evan "
"Yes, I will make them better,so don't stress out.."
He gently tucked the cubs onto the bedding and turned toward the storage shelves where he kept the herbs he prepared for emergency.
Silas paced the floor like a caged animal, fingers shaking.
They're just babies… beastgods, please… don't take them from me.
Kael kneeled beside the cubs, holding Milo's tiny hand in both of his as if trying to share his strength.
"Evan… tell us what to do," Silas said, voice desperate.
Evan quickly pulled out ginger, fever-cooling leaves, wild mint, and a few roots he had dried earlier.
"Silas, boil water. Kael, help me grind these herbs."
Both of them moved instantly.
The cave filled with frantic sounds—
the crackling of fire,
the grinding of herbs,
the rapid breathing of worried adults.
Evan mixed the crushed herbs with hot water, creating a warm, spicy scent that soothed the air.
He carefully lifted Leo's head and brought a spoon near his small mouth.
"Leo, baby… open your mouth for me."
Leo, weak and feverish, parted his lips.
Milo did the same when Evan reached him.
Kael exhaled shakily.
"It's helping… right?"
"It will," Evan said softly.
"And we'll cool their bodies. The fever will drop."
Silas stared at Evan like he was the only solid thing in a collapsing world.
He's saving them. He's holding us together.
.....
They worked nonstop.
Evan soaked cloths in cold water and wiped the cubs' burning skin again and again.
Silas held their hands, whispering broken comforts.
Kael pressed cool stones near their necks and feet, something his tribe used for fever.
Every few minutes Silas asked, "Evan… now? Are they cooler?"
Every time, Evan answered gently, "Not yet. But they will be."
Kael muttered small prayers for the first time since he came.
Not because he believed the gods listened—
but because he didn't know what else to do.
Please… don't punish these little ones… punish me instead.
Time blurred.
Hours passed.
Evan's hands ached.
Silas's voice grew hoarse.
Kael's eyes stung red.
But they kept going.
Because love makes people relentless.
.....
Finally…
Afternoon.
As Evan pressed a fresh cold cloth onto Milo's forehead, he paused.
He notices their breaths getting steadier before noticing the cool skin.
"…Silas."
Silas's head snapped up.
"What? What is it? Evan, tell me—"
"Look."
Milo shifted weakly.
His breathing eased.
His cheeks lost the angry red flush.
Silas froze.
Then Leo stirred too—small, sleepy, exhausted, but no longer burning.
Evan exhaled a breath he'd been holding all day and slumped slightly.
"They're over the worst. The fever's dropping."
Silas let out a sound—half laugh, half sob—and pulled the cubs gently into his arms.
"Thank the spirits… thank the forest… thank—"
He looked at Evan, eyes shimmering.
"Thank you."
Kael bowed his head, shoulders trembling in relief.
"They… they're safe?"
"They're safe," Evan nodded, smiling softly.
Kael exhaled shakily, as if his lungs had been tied for hours.
...
The tension of the entire day crashed down on them.
Silas was still holding the kids.
Kael stood beside him, exhausted but relieved.
And Evan… Evan felt something warm swell in his chest.
These men—
this family—
they fought so hard for two little lives.
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around both Silas and Kael, pulling them into a single, warm embrace.
Silas froze for a moment—then melted, resting his forehead on Evan's shoulder.
Kael stiffened, shocked… then slowly, shyly, he allowed himself to lean in too.
Warmth.
Safety.
Gratitude so deep it ached.
Evan whispered, voice thick with emotion,
"We did it. Together."
Silas's one hand tightened around Evan's waist , while his other hand rest on Kael's.
Kael's breath caught.
His heart thudded too fast.
Evan slightly sandwiched between them, flustered but warm.
A short spark moment like: "…this feels right."
This… this is what family feels like.
This simple hug—
warm and full,
strong and gentle—
was the moment something shifted.
Something quiet.
Something future-shaping.
A bond forming that none of them could deny.
The beginning of something more.